Raised to an Art Form
by Trauts
Summary: "The World of Pokemon?" Zeke mocked, sneering, "What an absolute joke. Humans raise pit fights to an art form, and name the world after the fighters-the slaves! Defend what people do to Pokemon, I dare you!"
1. Pacifism and Slavery

**"Raised to an Art Form" Chapter 1/Prologue: Slavery and Pacifism**

If you've seen me upload this and decided to check it out because you've read my other stories, you're in for a surprise, because it's something outside the Sonic Fanbase, and not a romance story either. However, it is entirely filled with Original Characters, as it is based on the games more than the anime or manga.

Though I am unsure yet as to how far I will continue this, though I have many ideas, I have written this much up of my first attempt of a Pokemon Fanfiction. I have not honestly seen much at all of the Pokemon Fanfiction section, but this is my own attempt at a "Realistic" take on the technologically-advanced, surprisingly dark world and culture of Pokemon.

I also haven't put this one through any of my proof readers, as my last message to my normal beta reader some time ago was never replied, I get the impression she's not on the site anymore.

I would like criticisms for the story, as without proof readers and largely written in the middle of the night, it's probably not going to be my best piece of work by a long shot.

Well, thank you for reading, and I'll let you get on with the story.

...

The boy stood there for a second as his own growls of anger subsided, dropping to his knees and giving the head of the Houndour a quick, thankful hug as the sound of new footsteps filled the hall.

"You're going to have to leave the house for more than a few seconds if you want to bring back something from the store, Zeke." Stated a familiarly soft voice, the tone of curiosity more than anything else present in it. Zeke lifted his head, arms still around the Pokemon in front of him as he looked at his mother.

Definitely unlike Zeke, his mother was a tall woman, one who almost projected an aura of goodwill around her, yet her eyebrows were raised at this point in an almost disapproving tone, before they suddenly dropped closer to her eyes in seriousness as she took in the condition of his hair, and the touches of contempt, anger and helplessness on his face, a look she knew too well. Before Zeke said a word, she asked the question they both knew the answer to.

"...They're at it again, aren't they?"

A large burst of flame, visible through the window next to the front door, confirmed her suspicions, sadness brewing in her own face as she moved over to her son, who was now hiding his face into the warm coat of the Houndour, holding an arm around him sympathetically. They remained there for some time, without movement or noise, before Zeke spoke up, his voice shaking as he held back tears.

"How can they **do **that? H-how can they do **this**? How c-c-can no-one see? How did the world end up like this, **THIS**? H-h-h-" Zeke made out, his voice raising in sound and emotion as sobs welled up at his own questions before he was cut out as his mother lifted his upper body from the Houndour, embracing him calmingly.

"Shush...shush. I don't know. But there are good people out there, there is still good in the world. Many Pokemon are happy, there is peace. There is peace. There is..."

The voice faded away, hearing the stream of words he had heard so many times before, but no longer listening, just feeling the warmth of the two body's against him as the well of despair disappeared, but not before leaving its mark booming in the confines of his head.

_'They are treated as pit fighters. Things to be conquered and enslaved.'_

_ 'Things to be conquered and enslaved.'_

_ 'Man has made slaves of Pokemon.'_

...

**Years later...**

A hand rummaged through a backpack with the ease of practice, familiarly pushing aside a scarf, a jacket and several textbooks until grasping the small box of food that lay at the bottom without looking for it, pulling it through the rest of the junk to the open air. Small specks of sunlight that made it through the leaves of the tree above danced across the lid as the box was opened to reveal a small compartment of crumbs, along with a small variety of vegetables and sliced berries making a form of salad, a folding metallic fork also inside.

Zeke looked at the contents for a second, shifting his body slightly so the bark of the tree he leant under didn't bite so deep into his spine as he delicately grabbed a small handful of crumbs from the box, looking around him. Few Pokemon appeared in the yard of East Azalea High School, despite its rural location, due to the fence surrounding its grounds. Even the small masses of trees were sprayed regularly to keep away the dangerous Pineco or any other hazardous Pokemon. Still, despite the school's best efforts, nothing can keep away the flocks of Pidgey from pecking at the endless litter of the school's few hundred students, particularly around the small group of concealing trees that Zeke now lay. Despite Pidgey being the only Pokemon known to enter the grounds, use of Pokeballs for any purpose were strictly forbidden without express permission.

'_And so,_' Zeke thought, reflecting on that particular rule of the school, '_I can at least have some form of peace._' He smiled slightly, the tree at his back concealing him from the rest of the school as he tossed the crumbs from his hand to the few Pidgey surrounding him. They quickly an eagerly got to pecking at the food before them, several giving calls of "_Pidgeee!_" in thanks.

Zeke's faint smile grew at the plaintive contentment of the creatures before him, feeling no threat from the sharp beaks jabbing at the bread nearby. He tossed out another swarm of crumbs, before touching the button on his cutlery to cause it to flick out to a full-sized fork, using it to idly scoop parts of the salad into his mouth as he munched slowly, savouring the sweet taste of the Oran Berries as their juice broke over his taste buds with every chew. He snorted, quietly, at a thought that came to his mind as he chewed on his lunch, grimacing to himself.

'_And they say that vegans have no sense of taste. Hmph.'_

Zeke shovelled another mouthful of the flavoursome food to his mouth, remembering to throw some more out to the peaceful Pokemon around him. He savoured these moments of peace. No slavery of Pokemon around him. No fighting. No wounds and injuries. No hospitals or Pokemon Centers. No lessons on training and preparing to fight. No history of Pokemon and Humans. No lies about "friendship" with those who are as good as slaves. Just him, some free, happy Pokemon, and a pleasant meal.

"Hey, the emo's trying to catch Pokemon again-"

'_Well. So much for serenity._'

"-Hey moron! You need a Pokeball for those things! Fattening them up doesn't make them easier to catch!" Jeered a familiar voice.

Zeke froze, reminding himself that yelling back would make him just as bad as they are, deciding instead to ignore the words that awoke such anger in him. Annoyingly, the two pairs of footsteps he heard were coming towards, not away from him. Following a sudden break in the footsteps was a quiet snigger from behind the tree, the scuffs of a hand against the ground and a hushed voice. Zeke made out the words "hit" and "bird", and waved his arms quickly, startling the small flock of Pidgey, causing them to turn and fly off just as a small, thrown stone hit the ground where one sat a moment before.

...

"Hey, guys, I'll be back in a minute. I just remembered I need to make a call on my 'gear, you know, about the car?" Came the excuse from one of the basketball players, giving a short wave as he walked off the outdoor court, murmurs of "Sure thing, man", "Go ahead, Rivet" and things of the like behind him as he walked off. Taller than the average teen, Rivet had the features of someone somewhat older, though such an image was held back by the acne around his jaw and the wild blonde strips of hair mixed in with the darker brown on his head.

Pretending to flick through the functions of his top-end wrist-mounted PokeGear to the communication section, Rivet made his way to the small clump of trees at the corner of the grounds under the pretence of looking for privacy with his call. No-one needed to know who he'd seen walking towards that same spot.

Zeke Connor was probably one of the least liked people, by anyone, in the school. It was common knowledge, and often mentioned spitefully, of his attitude towards nearly all. For his warped view of the world, and the extents he goes to for it, he has been called everything from arrogant, obnoxious, dark, spiteful, rude to uncaring. His pacifism somehow gave him something of a hatred against anyone who so much as looks at a Pokeball, leaving him with a set of "holier than thou" standards that he held himself to. All this has been said of him despite the fact that he prefers to ignore anyone else than to talk much.

Rivet knew that Zeke was far from some deranged idiot, but it was no secret that he flat-out refused to make any effort in a variety of compulsory classes, including Pokemon Behavioural Studies and Advanced Battle Theory.

None of these thoughts, though, stopped Rivet from walking determinedly to the cluster of trees, not far behind those he followed; Aiden and Dean. Probably the only students in the school who really wouldn't have anything better to do than to start a fight with somebody who won't fight back.

It was then, after yelling something at Zeke that was lost to Rivet due to a gust of wind, that Aiden and Dean stood beside the trunk that Rivet guessed was blocking his view of Zeke. The darker-haired and taller of the two, Aiden, suddenly was lost to Rivet's sight as the sound of something hitting plastic could be heard as he was concealed by the tree he stepped behind. Rivet caught the next sentence.

"Oh _whoops_! I'm _sorry_ about spilling your lunch like that. It was a complete accident, wasn't it Dean?" Apologized Aiden in his best sardonic voice, Dean's grin-as well as the salad and crumbs that spilt out across the ground on the opposite side of the tree-visible to Rivet.

"So, your lives are really so bland that you have absolutely nothing better to do than practice throwing rocks and kicking inanimate objects?" Rivet taunted, forcing a tone of mockery rather than anger into his voice.

At the sound, Aiden walked back to stand beside Dean, both turning angrily to the new arrival. As their backs turned, a cry was suddenly heard as a swarm of feathers, beaks and claws descended upon the two from behind, angry coos and squawks of "_Pidge-Pidgeee!_" as they raised their arms over their heads to defend themselves from the attack, crying in pain as the claws raked across their scalps and neck, tearing multitudes of scratches into the skin of the two.

As they fled from the cover of trees, shouting curses at the Pokemon attacking them, the Pidgey, one by one, let off the assault, finally returning to the trees, flying past Rivet without any show of aggression and landing beside Zeke, cooing triumphantly, before each of them picked up the nearest bread crumb that had been spilled in their beaks, and flying from the school grounds.

Rivet stood for a moment in amazement of the scene that had just unfolded in front of him, looking behind him. The grass of the large grounds around him was largely empty besides the still fleeing Aiden and Dean, but the group he was playing basketball with not long ago were now clustered, looking over, their attentions drawn by the flock of angry Pidgey. Noticing their look, he gave a simple shrug, hoping they could see the action from their position 30 or so meters away. One split from the group, a friend: Jordan, running towards Rivet, though watching the trees as if expecting Pidgey to burst from them again at every second. He skidded to a halt beside Rivet, who had taken a glance behind him, seeing no sign of Zeke and presuming him to be concealed by the trunk of the tree still, having not actually laid eyes on the teen yet.

"What the hell just happened? You okay? Were those guys Aiden and Dean? Why were the Pidgey so aggressive? " The questions came out in a blabbed stream, which Rivet had to hold up a hand to stem the flow of.

"Hey, slow down! Yeah, they were Aiden and Dean, and I just got here as those dumbasses threw a couple of stones at the Pidgey, who must have taken offense. I'm fine." Rivet claimed, inwardly wincing at the slight twist of the truth he had already guessed. Jordan seemed fine with the explanation, his brow furrowed in thought. Rivet shooed him away, saying he still had a call to make and making motions, pretending to try and work his PokeGear until he was sure Jordan had returned and the basketball game was once again starting up. As soon as it was, Rivet slipped into the shade of the trees, finally seeing Zeke laying there, in the middle of putting his lunch-box back into his pack. Zeke's face was hidden as he looked down, using his action as an excuse to hide his face.

Rivet offered a hand to the shorter, silent teen beneath him, amazed that Jordan hadn't seemed to notice him.

"You okay, Zeke? Aiden and Dean can be bastards, eh? At least they got what was coming to them." Rivet said, cheerily. Zeke, far from replying or taking the offered hand, instead turned his head upwards slowly, giving a cold glare to the one who had tried to help him. Rivet held up his open palms defensively.  
"Hey, sorry. I didn't mean to be rude, just asking if you were okay, you know." Rivet defended from the not-unexpected glare. He had never seen any expression rather than disinterest or anger on the silent boy's face, after all. Rivet sighed inwardly, deciding it best to leave Zeke be, before Zeke finally spoke; a voice Rivet had rarely heard.

"I don't need your help." Came the surprisingly calm voice as Zeke looked up, almost daringly, into Rivet's face. Rivet gave a lopsided grin in return, refusing to be intimidated, instead slumping against the trunk of another tree himself, facing Zeke.

"Never said you did, mate. Those Pidgey must like you a lot, though, I've never seen a wild one do something like tha-" As soon as the word 'wild' came out of Rivet's mouth, he knew he'd made a mistake as Zeke grabbed his bag, standing up angrily.

"Wild? _Wild_! Oh sure, when you're not dictating their every move and thought, locking them away and bringing them out to fight against one another for some sadistic pleasure, when they're for once-for once!-free and living their lives: they're **wild**! **Wild **beasts with no more intelligence than a rock, is that right? I'm sure, in such a state, they're **unworthy** of your footsteps, is that right? I don't see, in any way, how they are any more_ wild _than you, or any other 'trainer', and-" Zeke hissed suddenly, his voice more angered whispers than shouts as he pointed accusingly at Rivet, caught up in a sense of rage before he was cut off.

"Hey, hey, whoa. I didn't mean it like that, geez. I'm not out to enslave anything, and nor is anyone else here. We respect and care for those we catch, and-" Rivet began to defend himself, standing up as well before being interrupted in turn.

"Care for those you catch? Ah, of course you respect them to. What was it that reality show was called? '_The World of Pokemon'_?" Zeke mocked, sneering, "What an absolute joke. Humans raise pit fights to an art form, and name the world after the fighters-the slaves! Defend what people do to Pokemon, I dare you!" He continued, his voice now louder as he took the opportunity to throw more blame against his own race as a whole. Rivet now frowned, his own temper beginning to grow as Zeke ranted.

"Don't condemn the world for the actions of few. No good trainer ever forces his Pokemon to fight, merely asks. Ask any Gym lead-"

"Oh, and now we get to Gym Leaders? Yes, a whole international league, an international sport has been made of these fights. Hell, human culture has grown to watching Pokemon attack each other in arenas for our amusement! You've been attempting to go for the Hive Badge, right? And I've seen you have your Pokemon fight. A Zangoose, right? Do you really think it will ever be happy now you've stolen it from its habitat, from its family, and dragged it half-way across the world to Johto to fight against other Pokemon while spending it's time locked up? I think not! You're no different from the rest of them."

Zeke grabbed his pack, walking off as Rivet stood there, speechless, standing frozen in place in a mixture of anger at the blind stubbornness of the kid, of disbelief of how uncaring Zeke seemed to be that Rivet had tried to help him, and of his presumptions on his Zangoose.

'_How dare he? How __**dare**__ he speak about me and Ken like that? How __**DARE **__he?'_

Exactly on time, the school bell rung throughout the grounds.

...

I have made the first character I've created and used in an uploaded fanfiction a vegan, a pacifist and an emotionally reserved, anti-social, reclusive individual. Much like me...except for the vegan part. ^^'

Though, don't get me wrong, I have nothing against these traits, and respect them or the reasons behind them, in most cases. Regardless, it leads to an...unusual main character to write, as rather than jokes and dialogue, you work with thoughts, descriptions and political topics.

(Dialogue and descriptions have been slightly edited by 10/4/12. I haven't changed much, but the pre-existing chapter had some painfully bad dialogue, so I've just made a few touches so it says the same things but not **quite** as badly as before.)


	2. Claws and Scythes

**"Raised to an Art Form"  
****Chapter 2: Claws and Scythes**

Well, I'd like to thank all who sent in a review to the first chapter of this story. To** RB Whiffet**, for the encouragement and corrections in their review, to **The Rahkshi Writer**, for their feedback and analysis, and the anonymous **Soviet**, who without a profile I cannot respond to: I'd like to say that Zeke is indeed overly biased, but it's a trait of his character, a flaw of his own. 

Sorry, by the way, for the yawning chasm of a delay. I'm writing on a very casual basis now, with a lot of things suddenly being thrown in my life. I'm still writing; just have absolutely no update schedule. Trust me, though, reviews really do help, so thanks everyone.

Oh, and yes, much longer chapter. The first chapter was just a prologue, after all.

...

The final bell rung at a time that, to Rivet, felt hours late, though a glance at his PokeGear confirmed it was Friday 4pm. Quiet, muttered conversations around the room broke out into a mass of noise as most students in the class leapt from their seats, rushing around Rivet to the door of the classroom, Jordan following suit, getting up from his seat beside Rivet with a quick explanation of having to get to his uncle's place by 4:30.

"Remember! For those of you who still haven't completed the P-B-S Essay, its due on Monday!" the teacher frantically reminded anyone who would listen over the noise, somewhat in futile. Seeing the majority of the class already out into the now-crowded hallway, mixing up in the masses of people in a rush to get to their lockers, he let out an exasperated sigh before flicking a switch on the wall near him, shutting down the Interactive Whiteboard that various underlined pieces of information and largely irrelevant diagrams had been on.

The remaining students finished up whatever they had yet to do. Some still packing up their stationary, other's furiously scribbling to finish the given handout. Rivet, finishing up the former, walked out of the classroom, dropping his completed, proof-read essay on the teacher's desk, giving the title of it one last glance to make sure he'd remembered to write in his name.

**Pokemon Behavioural Studies-Ilex Forest and Grass-Type Inhabitants  
**_Rivet Stevens, Year 12, Form A_

Reassured, he left, weaving through the crowd of students to his locker. As he gave out a few "hey's" of acknowledgement to those who said "hi" as they went by, Rivet looked around for any sign of Zeke Connor. In truth, he didn't know what he intended to say when he saw the guy, but nevertheless preferred the chance to get to talk to the guy. His thoughts on how to approach the reclusive teen came to a halt as he spotted him, but through the window of a classroom. It was clear, from the only other person in said classroom and the talking going on inside, that another teacher was lecturing Zeke, or at least trying to get the sixteen-year old to put some effort in. Rivet shook his head at the obvious disinterest visible on Zeke's face, giving up his idea on talking and instead just heading to his locker, now meters away.

'_It's a wonder he passed Year 10. I imagine he's only doing Year 11 now because of his parents, probably. He _must _have at least failed Year 10 Pokemon Behavioural Studies, from what I've seen of him, and certainly Advanced Battle Theory._' Rivet guessed, hearing the 'click' from the locker as it unlocked itself, sensing his School-Issue PokeDex ID grow close. Packing his bag, he thinks a bit deeper as to how Zeke even got to Year 11.

'_Well...he seems to have a refusal to listen to almost any teacher...but he seems to have largely taught himself Mathematics and Geographical Climates._' Rivet thought further. He was a year ahead of the sixteen-year old Zeke, but he had, in the past, been in some cross-year classes and was in the same "House" group-'_Ariados'_-so during school events he'd seen Zeke occasionally. His friends from various classes and year levels also left him in the web of information about almost anyone who's getting either higher or lower than average grades, as well.

Clearing his head on the pointless speculations as to how far Zeke has gotten and/or why, Rivet finished packing the few items he needed into his bag, closing his locker and walking off at a somewhat more relaxed pace than most students, many of which were still high on the "end-of-week" feeling. Making sure he heard the "click" of his locker re-locking itself, he made his way through the now-quieter corridors, passing the Janitor and his Slowpoke along the way. The grey-haired, elderly man picked up a half-eaten apple left on a windowsill with a pair of tongs, throwing it into one of the small bins attached to the trolley he dragged around, before picking up a crumpled paper airplane on the floor at his feet, handing to the Slowpoke lying outstretched on the trolley's flat surface.

With a grunt of "_Sloooow..._", the Pokemon held the paper lazily in its paw, using Recycle. Instantly, before Rivet's eyes, the crumpled, torn, blank paper fell from the Pokemon's paw, slipping through as a liquid, before spilling over the trolley in a peculiarly controlled manner, finally solidifying in the perfect shape of an A4-sized piece of non-creased blank paper, which the Janitor placed in a compartment in the side of the trolley, giving the Slowpoke an appreciating pat on the head, with no noticeable response besides a low, pleased grumble.

Rivet finally made his way out of the school grounds. He'd seen the Janitor's Slowpoke use Recycle before; it wasn't exactly a rare thing, but nevertheless interesting to watch, somehow. The Pokemon itself certainly wasn't a rare sight; it was one of the most commonly seen Pokemon, wild or owned, around Azalea-besides the Pidgey-thanks to the proximity of the aptly named Slowpoke Well.

Now onto the green lawn beside the street outside the school-nothing on it but a spatter of bicycles and the rare car for those with the need and the money-Rivet followed the suit of what many others were now doing, reaching into his pack for his only Pokeball-a primarily black device, with a gold-trimmed red line around it's "top" half, and a similar grey-trimmed yellow along its center, aiming it at a patch of grass nearby. Without any apparent speech or movement, the ball opened, an arc of red light appearing from it, hitting the ground before morphing the data into physical body, becoming bone, organ, mind, shape and colour into the obvious form of a Zangoose facing him, four limbs supporting itself for a second before rearing up onto its hind legs, suddenly reaching a height from a couple of feet to well over a meter, rubbing at its pink eyes tiredly with its forelimbs, careful of its own claws.

A bit taller than the average Zangoose, on its hind legs reaching about 135 centimetres if measurements from weeks ago are still accurate, and also a bit heavier than average, as is visible rather quickly from its very slightly hanging gut.

Finishing rubbing its eyes, the Zangoose opened them to the daylight around it, lifting its head upwards in an action similar to a yawn: "_Zaaaaaaan-goose."_

"Still tired, Ken? Guess you wanna finish up your rest then?" Rivet queried his Pokemon by name, smiling at the sight of him. Ken's ears perked up, head lowering to look at Rivet, its head nodding cheerily, if tiredly. As Rivet lifted the Luxury-Model Pokeball once again to return Ken to the data-simulated world of his own inside, Ken held up a hand tiredly in an action to mean "wait" before turning around to the small groups of primarily female, younger students looking upon the exotic Pokemon in wonder.

Grinning in a way almost describable as 'roguishly', Ken lifted both forelimbs, claws rapidly changing from a black to a deep purple colour before clashing both sets of claws together above his head three times, each blow leaving both claws glowing brighter, each time letting off small purple-coloured sparks as the poison-infused claws contacted, quickly dissipating in the air around the Zangoose, leaving his small crowd clapping or squealing at the small creature's display.

Ken, finished, turned back to Rivet with a grin mimicking Rivet's own. Rivet raised an eyebrow at the display beside his own grin, before rolling his eyes.

"You are _such _a show-off." Rivet chuckled, amused, Ken giving a small "_Zan!_" of agreement before a red beam connected the Pokemon to the Luxury ball, the Zangoose's body disappearing without another trace in a beam of red light. The ball safely stowed back inside his pack, Rivet grinned, slipping his pack onto his back and beginning the walk to his house, his previous aggravation over the argument with Zeke temporarily forgotten by his Pokemon's antics.

...

Closing the front door of his house, Rivet climbed the staircase in front of him, entering the first room on the corridor stretching to his right from the top of the stairs. Thick, spotless blue carpet covered the floor, similar blue paint covering the walls. Over the paint, several posters of Pokemon covered the walls. A Luxray, its front hunkered down, growling, and a Magmar, a stream of flame erupting from its raised mouth, shooting upwards, were two of the posters. The third was in the form of a motivational poster with an image Rivet knew was digitally altered, though well: A Tropius, turning its head to look at the fruit hanging from its neck, seeing a bundle of pink Pokeblocks instead of bananas, with the caption beneath the picture stating: "**INDULGENCE**: Sure, it may seem nice at the time, but it will always come back to haunt you later."

Even after having it up for weeks, Rivet still chuckled at the reference to Tropius' trait of having its favourite and most commonly eaten fruit grow from its own neck.

Two single beds filled Rivet's bedroom, as well as a small, clean desk between the two, serving to support two lamps as well as a state-of-the-art PC. A closet and a second desk, with two different gaming systems set up on it, linked to the wall-mounted, advanced television screen, completed the spotlessly clean room. A strange thing to see in a 17-year-old's room, and stranger yet to see in one who often had one friend or another over, as well as a large Pokemon.

Rivet carefully placed his pack on the bed he slept in, rummaging through it before pulling out the Luxury Ball, pointing it at the second bed. Hr had no problems using the bed for that purpose...it _was_ Ken's bed, after all. The Pokemon inside not sending itself out, Rivet did it for him.

"Back to this world, Ken." Rivet stated simply, the ball splitting open as a familiar arc of energy left the Zangoose arriving on his own bed, lounging freely-assumedly in the same position as he was in the data-based world inside his Pokeball. However, as new smells were brought in through his breathing, different sensations on his skin were realized, Ken quickly awoke with a sound that could be compared to a quiet bark, sitting upright with a stretch.

"Had a nice snooze, I take it?" Rivet asked with a grin, Ken giving a simple "_Goose" _as a retort, pushing himself off the bed and landing on all fours, leaving the room and walking down the stairs carefully, never particularly happy with going down headfirst but even less comfortable using the stairs whilst on two legs. Rivet, rolling his eyes at his Pokemon's obvious purpose to get to something downstairs, followed behind, politely giving Ken time to reach the bottom of the staircase slowly rather than moving past him.

"So I'm guessing you're hungry then?" Rivet asked Ken, guessing the answer in advance. Ken nodded his head once with an affirmative "_Zangoose_" directed at Rivet. Rivet smiled, asking the follow-up question.  
"So what will it be? As far as leftovers go, we have some Mince-Meat Pies with a salad, or just a simple beef-steak, unless you'd prefer-" Rivet didn't get any further before Ken interrupted him with an agreeable "_Zan_". Rivet's smile turned to another grin at his Pokemon's strange liking of what others may see as "human-food". Certainly, Ken had never liked the processed crap sold as Pokemon food such as "Omnivore Poke-Meal" nor the Carnivore or Herbivore equivalents. And, of course, he had no interest in those catering to particular types of Pokemon, such as the "Sea-Plant Mix", "Digestible Ore" or "Nutrient Fertilizer".

Walking to the kitchen, Ken right on his heels, Rivet opened the fridge, taking out an airtight plastic container and placing it on the nearby bench, his Pokemon gently head-butting the fridge door closed after him. Rivet nodded his thanks to Ken as he flicked off a safety catch, then slightly twisting a dial somewhat strangely located in the centre of the granite kitchen bench. A small warning beep was heard, before a small section of the bench appeared to shift, mechanically dropping down, before a more practical board-like surface covered the once-granite slab, rising up once more until the new covering fitted perfectly level with the rest of the bench; a cutting board, impeccably clean from in-built cleaning systems.

As Rivet unsealed the container, lifting the lid and the huge chunk of frozen steak inside to the chopping board quickly, regretting the lack of gloves as he rubbed his fingers together quickly to warm them up after they held the frozen meat, even for a relatively short amount of time. That done, he moved to get two plates out of the cupboard, talking to Ken as he did so.

"You can go ahead and cut off however much you like. Cut a much smaller piece for me, I had lunch not too long ago." By the time Rivet had finished what he was saying, brought out the plates and turned back to the steak; it was no different besides a small serving having been cut off, Ken standing on his hind legs, licking his sharp claws in an almost wicked, or at least pleased with himself, manner. Rivet had no qualms about the use of claws as knives: he may be unusually neat and organized with his possessions, but the way he sees it: '_Any amount of germs that's clearly not going to kill you is just going to strengthen your immune systems.'_

However, his eyebrows rose at the two pieces of meat before him.

"I said cut two pieces off, one for each of us; not cut into two pieces. You don't actually think you can eat all of that?" Rivet joked, pointing to the large portion. His Zangoose nodded vigorously, giving Rivet a grin. Rivet rolled his eyes, muttering something about Ken's weight under his breath, jokingly, causing his Zangoose to give him a playful hiss in way of a retort.

Nevertheless, Rivet places both pieces of the beef-steak onto a single plate, opening the microwave nearby and placing the filled plate inside, closing the hatch and hitting the button labelled "Preset 4". Confirming the time appearing on a small digital screen, he stepped back as the steak warmed. It wasn't actually; of course, true Miltank meat, but a near-identical scientifically grown substitute, or "Tank grown". Controversy over the harvesting of the necessary "ingredients"-many chemicals and genes used in the process taken from bred Miltank and Tauros-nonetheless ensured that though it was a step forward from the so-thought-of as barbaric nature of slaughtering Pokemon for food, it still didn't create more "ex-vegans" as hoped like it did "ex-vegetarians".

As the meat heated up, Rivet turned to collect cutlery for himself, finding the draw already open and Ken gathering a knife and fork for him, placing them on the remaining plate left on the bench that was almost as high as his shoulders. Giving a "Thanks, Ken" to his Pokemon, Rivet moved the now-empty container to the sink, setting off the motion-activated tap and scrubbing it clean with a nearby cloth as he waited, setting the water to a much higher temperature. Looking back, Rivet saw his Zangoose leaning on his back, on the closed door of the fridge, looking at Rivet with something akin to a smirk, accentuated by the natural rise of the lips towards the nose as every Zangoose has.

"_Zaaan...goose. Goose..Zan, Zan." _Ken said, the seeming random intervals between the similar sounds having a questioning feel to them. Rivet never knew exactly what his only Pokemon was trying to say when he got 'talkative' like that, but could guess from the tone what Ken was trying to ask.  
"We have been over this. If my parents are always so busy that by the time they get home they have no time to do anything more than to go straight to bed, and get ready for their next day in the office, then it doesn't make sense that they should do my cleaning on top. And it's not exactly as if we need to use the dish-washer for a single item." Rivet explained, putting the damp container and its lid on the drying rack next to the sink as the microwave gave a 'beep'.

Rivet opened the hatch, drawing out the plate and testing the warmth of the meat by placing the back of his index finger on the smaller piece of beef. Pleased with the heat, he used a fork to draw the smaller piece onto his own plate, before handing the plate with the larger serving to Ken, who took it eagerly, balancing on his hind legs with the plate in his grasp. At Rivet's suggestion, they made their way back upstairs, Rivet taking the plate from his Pokemon so Ken could climb the stairs on all fours, as he preferred doing, giving it back once they reached their room. Leaving Ken to turn on the television set, and to flick through the channels with the remote beside it, Rivet slowly ate his way through his meal, sitting on the bed opposite the screen with fork and knife, his Pokemon joining him shortly, eating with claws and hands made for the task of slicing and gathering meat.

As Ken flicked through the channels, scraps of dialogue and conversations from the various stations reached his ears, even as he looked down, eating.

"Didn't find the-"  
"-to know the story behind the mysterious-"  
"-ridiculous. Johto Gym Leader, Whitn-"  
"Found guilty of Mistreatment of Pokemon and-"

Rivet tuned most of the documentaries, news reports and series out, until the last report reaching his ears striking a sudden, familiar chord in him, his mind heading back to earlier in the day.

-_Hell, human culture has grown to watching Pokemon attack each other in arenas for our amusement!_-

Zeke Connor. Nothing he'd said was anything new. There were always groups speaking out against the Pokemon League, just as there were plenty who didn't fight. However, Zeke was the most outspoken that Rivet knew of.

'_Everyone has a right to think what they want, to believe what they want_', Rivet reasoned with himself, '_but how _dare_ he actually accuse me of not caring for Ken, for forcing him into anything! _'

Rivet let out a sad sigh before he could stop himself, causing Ken to spin his head to face him in concern, flicking the television off with the remote and tapping Rivet's shoulder with a claw lightly, worriedly.

"_Zangoose?_" the questioning sound caused Rivet to rub his head, not meaning to worry the Zangoose.  
"Sorry...it's nothing, I promise." Rivet claimed, forcing a smile for his caring friend, continuing when Ken's facial expression did not change, "Really. Just thinking about a talk I had with Zeke."

Ken's face showed signs of confusion, quickly giving way to recognition, nodding understandingly, but still appearing concerned. Rivet scratched the back of his head sheepishly, finding it awkward to say what had exactly happened.

"Yeah, the...loud one. Didn't seem to matter what I tried to do or said; he just pushed me away. This time he flat-out yelled. Claimed I used you, really... what annoys me most about his arguments is most didn't even seem to be relevant, just throwing twisted facts at me as accusations." Rivet reasoned, both with himself and Ken, not sure whether to hold his head in his hands or chuckle, "He needs to get his facts right, couldn't see the even slight possibility that many Pokemon see it as a sport, and nor would I ever tell you to fight, Ken, it's up to you what you want to do."

Finally, Rivet did chuckle, feeling somehow lighter, even as he looked down towards his half-eaten lunch. The chuckle seemed somehow pitiable, both to of Zeke and the lack of flexibility to his beliefs.

"Seemed to think that as you're my Pokemon, that means I must be controlling you." Finished Rivet, a grimace appearing on his face, before a sharp-yet light-touch to his shoulder caused him to bring his head back up to look at Ken's face, and the encouraging smile on it.

"Alright, alright. I know, I know. You're not even my Pokemon, really. You're my friend." The boy's grimace turned towards a genuine smile at his own words, but Ken nonetheless poked him again with a claw teasingly, now grinning playfully. Rivet let out a more humorous chuckle at what he knew his Pokemon was encouraging him to say. "Okay, fine. I'm **your** human." Relented the teen, now grinning in amusement himself as Ken barked out a stream of syllables resembling a "_Zan-han-han-han-han-han!_" which Rivet knew to be the Zangoose' way of laughing.

Rivet finished his chuckle, before snatching the remote, playfully, out of Ken's hands.

"Alright. If you can't decide then I'll choose the channel."

...

'_4:15pm? Crap, I've missed the busses._' Zeke sighed as he thought to himself, gathering his bag and textbooks from his locker after a glimpse at his PokeGear. He couldn't ignore the discomfort of his stomach after the lack of most of his lunch, and having gone without breakfast beforehand.

Shouldering his pack and closing the locker door, Zeke walked down the largely-empty hallway, most students having gone long before he was let out of the extended lecture.

'_It's always the same. "You're a good kid, but you need to pay more attention". "I know you dislike Pokemon battles but that's no reason to neglect your education". "Bla bla bla, blablabla". Ugh, self-centred idiots._' Zeke thought spitefully at the teachers. '_Always talking with smiles and compliments, yet never actually doing anything, for anyone, for any reason besides their next paycheck. Always happy to watch two Pokemon hack at each other for "science" or "knowledge" or "studies", but-of course- would abhor it if two students started beating each other up. _'

Zeke sighed once more, leaving the school building through the swinging front door, stopping for a second to consider his options. It would be another half-hour or so before the next bus, the school-hired busses only going for 15 minutes after school ends. His father wouldn't be able to pick him up for another 45 minutes, and the walk to his house was well over an hour, none of which seemed great plans when his stomach growled at him.

'_There's always the Pecha Berry trees a short walk into Ilex...' _Zeke considered, the walk keeping him occupied to fill the time until the next bus, as well as solving his hunger problem if there are any Pecha berries there.

Making his decision, the teen flicked through sections of his PokeGear, searching through the logged phone numbers and reaching his mum. As it dialled and rung, Zeke left the school grounds, though he was forced to turn his head away when he noticed, some distance away, the after-school "Battling Club" calling orders to their Pokemon. Biting his lip and doing his best to ignore the shouts and sounds of violence, the sixteen-year old moved out of earshot, around outside the wire-frame fence signifying the school-grounds, before a voice came from the PokeGear on the wrist he held in front of him.

"Hello Zeke. How was your day, son?" his mother's voice reached his ears, sounding pleasantly surprised at the call.  
"Hi mum. It was fine...I just missed the busses, though." Zeke replied simply, patiently answering all the questions he expected to come before anything else.  
"Oh, is everything okay? Talk to me." queried his mother, the protective tone only a mother can achieve almost dripping from her words.  
"Yeah, I was just held in for another lecture, really..."

"Again? How many times must I tell you? Learn what's necessary however you like, do what homework you believe is necessary, prove that you can do what they throw at you and you don't have to bother with the drone of recycled 'facts' coming out their mouths. Surely your teachers have learnt by now that your marks are not in danger from how you act in class, so what was the problem?" his mother seeming lightly amused as she joked.

Both of Zeke's parents knew that their son couldn't care less about what 'his teachers mindlessly blab'-as he himself put it-and rather encouraged him to learn what he needed in his own time, knowing that-short of Pokemon Behavioural Studies and Advanced Battle Theory-his marks were among the top of the class, though Zeke managed to keep his marks hidden from most of the students, preferring not to draw attention to himself. Pokemon Behavioural Studies and Advanced Battle Theory he had to attend for a variety of reasons, but an arrangement exists between Zeke's parents and the Principle, and they do not affect whether he can pass into the next year level or not, at least not extensively.

"Well, I had a substitute teacher." Zeke said simply, his mother giving a knowing 'ahh' in return.  
"Ah, well that makes sense. Though, are you alright? You sound a bit distracted, Zeke..."  
"Yeah, just making my way to Ilex Forest to pick up some Pecha Berries while I wait for the bus. And I got into a bit or an argument with another guy at school earlier, Rivet." Zeke answered truthfully, turning his head from his PokeGear to sigh without his mum hearing.

"If you're going into the forest, watch out for Pineco, okay? Avoid overhanging branches wherever possible, and stick to the path," Zeke rolled his eyes as the unnecessary warning, about to respond with a 'yes mum' before his mother continued, realizing something about what he'd said, "But, Rivet? As in Rivet Stevens? I think I know his parents a bit." At those words, Zeke stopped walking, frowning as he replied to his mother in genuine surprise.  
"You do? I didn't think you knew anyone at my school, really," Zeke asked, "They the usual happy couple giving their children plenty of Pokemon to have kill each other?" Zeke continued, sneering in his contempt.

"Zeke! The world isn't divided into who's Pokemon fight and who's don't. It doesn't **make **a person good or bad just because they don't share our beliefs; we've been over this." Zeke's mother chided the teen, "They're quite successful, but their son largely has their house to himself I believe, and they're actually quite similar to us. They don't keep any Pokemon, in fact, beside one Pokemon, an orphan that their son raised from an egg given by an older relative in Hoenn."  
"Hmph. A Zangoose, isn't it? Raised from an egg or not, I've seen Rivet have his Zangoose fight other Pokemon, that's hardly taking care of it." Growled Zeke, sore from the scolding he just received. His mum had similar views as him, but he always, privately, thought that she didn't take it far enough to mean much.  
"Zeke, Zeke...Mr and Mrs Stevens wouldn't let their son force his Pokemon do anything. The Zangoose's name is Ken, and he chooses to spar with other Pokemon for sport. Not everything's black and white, son..." his mother continued, reasoning with her son. When Zeke said nothing back, she queried him, "Zeke?"

"I'm here, mum. Yeah, you're right...sorry." Zeke reluctantly apologized, starting to walk again, thinking over what he'd just heard from his mum and what he'd heard earlier in the day from Rivet, "I'm just about at Ilex Forest. I got to go, see you in a half-hour or so." Zeke finished, looking up at the cover of trees now nearing him to make sure no Pineco were hanging above the path. A startled Pineco can be potentially deadly to someone not wary, considering the force and heat they are capable of producing when Selfdestructing.  
"Alright, be careful!" was the last words from the teen's PokeGear before he tapped the centre of the screen to disconnect the call.

Walking underneath the looming, dark-green trees on the gravel walking trail beneath him, Zeke's attention was split between thoughts on the argument earlier, and glances at the overhead branches. No danger was likely to present itself from the land in the forest, Ilex Forest known for its safety with little besides the occasional Weedle or Caterpie likely to appear near paths, the evolved forms of said Pokemon often keeping to themselves in groups, away from the walking trials. However, the sounds of Pokemon still reached him from the forest teeming with wildlife.

"_Pine-pinepine-co, co_", "_Terrrrr-caterrrrpie_", "_Kuna, kuna, Kaaakuna_"

The sounds of the various Pokemon, accompanied by the rustling and creaking of the trees and bushes throughout the forest were strangely soothing; Zeke had to admit to himself, temporarily pushing the day's events from his mind. As he knew from experience, it was only a very short distance to the Pecha Berry trees once inside the bounds of Ilex Forest, which in itself is conveniently situated only a few hundred meters from the school, and by the time he felt he had separated all of the sounds of the various Pokemon in the forest in his mind-even hearing the sound of a Hoothoot at one point despite it being so early in the afternoon-he passed two trees marked by a ring of white paint each into a surprisingly wide, yet empty clearing of short grass. A few Caterpie lazily crawled across the grass, snuffling at the ground, while two Weedle crawled almost vertically up one of the two solitary trees in the clearing, heading higher towards the large pink fruits that hung from the top branches.

'_Ah, finally, good to see some food.' _Thought the teen to himself, letting a genuinely pleased smile take over his face at the serenity of the glade, before circling around the crawling Caterpie to avoid startling them, heading towards the Pecha Tree that had no visible Pokemon crawling along it, taking off and carefully placing his backpack on the ground.

The bright, ripe Pecha Berries all hung, like on the other tree, at its tip, the rest assumedly eaten by various Pokemon. At least 6 hung just out of reach, each at least the size of an apple, though Zeke knew them to be far sweeter, if less filling due to their largely hollow centre. Zeke glanced at his PokeGear, the time clearly showing up as 4:23pm.

'_I still have another 20 minutes until the bus, might as well relax here.' _Zeke thought to himself, unzipping his bag to-rather carelessly-strew all of the fragile, bulky or sharp objects inside over around the grass so the bag itself would act as a somewhat-effective pillow. Among the items was the small plastic container for his food, now empty, his clearly unused PokeDex-still with plastic coating over various panels-a couple of thick novels by the titles of "_Mankind and Pokemon_" and "_An Undesirable Truth_", both by the same author, and his Pokeball, or what remains of one. The small, spherical device-currently shrunk, technologically, to the size of a golf ball for portability purposes-had writing over the red half of the device stating "The shape of Pokemon's chains!" with the illustration of a pair of manacles and a padlock scribbled on the white half of the device. No Pokemon was in it, of course, it was merely used as a protest symbol.

With his bag having little besides his stationary, spare jacket and textbooks left inside, he laid it against the thin trunk of the Pecha Tree, before lifting a foot to stand on the lowest branch, less than half a meter off the ground, reaching his arm up through the peculiarly purple-coloured leaves to carefully pull four of the large berries in reach off where they hung, gently carrying them in his arms.

Stepping off the tree, he placed three along the ground next to his bag, holding the fourth in his hand as he lay along the lush grass, letting his head rest on his pack. Eating the berry slowly, he let his eyes wander over the clearing, the Pokemon there, and the trees. The delicate sweetness of the fruit soothed him and cleared his mind, leaving him more relaxed than he'd been the whole day. Finishing the first berry surprisingly quickly, he proceeded to start eating the second, rolling a third over to the three Caterpie who had been looking his way with some curiosity, as well as possible appetite. They crawled over to where it stopped, together nibbling at the fruit that was-comically-almost the size of one of their heads.

Making pleased noises and squeals of "_Caaaaterrrr"_, the Caterpie slowly devoured the Pecha berry from several sides, apparently pleased with the change from their normal diet of leaves. The Weedle, meanwhile, had reached their own Pecha Berries, crawling along the branch where one hung, and eating away at its tip before it snapped from the tree, almost flattening itself upon hitting the ground. Despite the squashing, the two Weedle gave an "_Eedddddle!_" of triumph, crawling back down the tree to feast on their dinner.

Zeke didn't bother to repress the amused smile at the antics of the Bug Pokemon, and-licking his fingers dry from the juice of the Pecha Berry he just ate-he moved on to eat the last Pecha Berry he picked himself. Finally, his stomach filled and time passed, confirmed by his PokeGear to be 4:34pm, Zeke got up, recollecting the various items strewn across the grass to re-pack his bag, shouldering the pack as he stood up, stretching his back before hearing a surprisingly loud crunching of wood and rustling of leaves behind the cover of the forest, the sounds of fast movement coming from the trees opposite the entrance into the clearing.

"What the hell...?" Zeke spoke aloud without meaning to, instinctively backing away from the source of the noise, crossing much of the clearing walking backwards as the sounds got louder. Finally, an almost bestial cry was heard as an entire tree fell over not far into the forest, a tremendous crash resulting that shook the earth and caused the Bug Pokemon to crawl away with surprising haste.

"_Sccyyy...tthhheerrr!_"

Zeke just managed to make out a flash of green body on green surroundings, and four branches from the trees bordering the clearing suddenly dropped to the ground, cut by what could only be described as a blur of motion, before a blur of green finally came to a halt inside the clearing, looking up into the sky and crying out in some kind of pained, twisted model of a howl.

"_Scy-SCYTHERRRRRR!"_

Zeke barely got a glimpse of the Pokemon, an image burned into his head of vicious claws, crazed eyes and streaks of red blood travelling down a green body, before his senses recovered, he span around, and ran as fast as his legs would carry him back down the path he came through before, hearing hacking and further breakage of trees, foliage and bushes as the Scyther pursued him, seemingly filled by some unknown rage. His heart thudding through his body and filling his ears with an endless '**thump, thump, thump, thump, thump'**, Zeke continued to run, adrenaline flooding his body at the thoughts of the cruel claws of a Scyther, and the enraged sounds erupting behind him.

"_Scyther! Scy-scy-scy-ther!_"

A frantic look behind him showed the terrifying sight of the Scyther dashing in a zigzag pattern, seemingly intent to hack each and every hanging branch it saw to oblivion, yet doing it all in seconds and pursuing the teen nonetheless, swinging its oversized blades left and right while letting out cry after cry from its mouth.

'_Arceus! Crap, crap, crap!_' was the only thing going through Zeke's mind, repeating the oaths as if a broken record. Fear gripped him from every corner, his mind shouting at him to scream, to hide, to run. He chose to listen to that last part. It wasn't a single Scyther behind him, his mind told him; it was an army of them, an army of blades, close enough to nick his back at will.

As he finally neared the outskirts of the forest, in desperation Zeke tore at the flimsy straps of his bag, fear fuelling him better than any other motivation could, tossing his bag behind him to save weight or to distract the maddened Pokemon, sprinting out of the forest and across the field, not stopping until he was next to the road going past his school.

The Scyther did not follow him past the trees.

...

Huh...well, since these are the author's notes, putting the crazy Scyther aside for the moment...

Strangely, I based my 'vision' of Azalea Town (of course, some time after the time the games were set in) after the Australian city of Bendigo, somewhat. In the solitary aspect that, in population and land area, it's certainly a city (in Azalea's case, a city now), but it's grown outward rather than upward. This means still several schools, shopping centres and such, but still very much a 'rural' area in many regards, especially on the outskirts. Not overly industrialized or anything, more like a very large, well, town.

Oh, and all the school-work, Year levels and subjects? Made some up, took some ideas from different systems, and largely added a sort of Ultra-Modern aspect to the school itself, but through existent technology. The Pokemon World may be advanced, but I'm not going to write it as some kind of science-fiction.

Oh, and you may have noticed I kept referring to the Zangoose as "Ken" or "He" rather than "the Zangoose" and "It". This is, largely to push forward the idea of the story, that from what the anime at least shows; Pokemon (at least many) are incredibly intelligent, and largely the basis for Zeke's own hatred of what Pokemon are used for. And for the record, yes, Zangoose are normally a quadruped, not commonly moving on two legs as seen in their sprites in the games unless they're angry.

Err...anything else I've missed? I guess I should mention the spelling of "mum", as it is-at least-in Australia. I believe in North America it's "mom", as in the games themselves, but if I spelt it that way I would probably accidentally revert to the spelling I'm used to so many times that it'd be a mess of one word being used with several spellings.

Largest challenge of the chapter was working out how Mrs Connor would speak to her son. -_-' Though, on a more relevant note, don't be afraid to say in a review that I've been overly description-heavy, as it's my greatest worry, reading over the chapter.


	3. Concerning Pokemon

**"Raised to an Art Form"  
Chapter 3: Concerning Pokemon**

Well, a Zeke-only chapter, for now. And I'm back on this story!

I was motivated...and yet, at the same time annoyed, by the new series of Pokemon games, since I recently bought Black. Well, I'm not sure 'annoyed' is the right word, exactly, but it is sort of creepy to see Team Plasma come up, completely coincidentally around 2010 and 2011, while I've been writing this fanfic centred around an identical theme. Huh. I have finished the game, mind you, so I know all of Team Plasma, though I'm not going to post spoilers here.

Still, nice to see some genuine plot in the Pokemon series. ^^

Well, once again-thank you to all whom reviewed. In this case, the anonymous **fractalman** who reviewed chapter 2. Please get an account, so I can respond to your reviews, by the way, if only to thank you more directly for your time and encouragement.

By the way, (!) at the end of a sentence denotes sarcasm. And in case it isn't immediately obvious, any writing that is both in italics exclusively, and also between hyphens ("-") are flashbacks to previous chapters, and flashbacks to an event that has not yet been described are, as a rule, simply italics without the hyphens.

Not that it's really important, just some people may want to know in case it isn't immediately obvious. ^^'

...

"-I'm driving towards your school now, son. Which street are you waiting at?" The voice of Zeke's father was clear through the PokeGear call.  
"Look, I-I'm fine, I promise dad, just a little shaken, you don't have to come so quickly-" Zeke tried to lie, mentally kicking himself for the slight tremble of his lips on the 'I'; he knew his father would be able to pick it up, easily.

"Nonsense, I'll be there within the next ten minutes, where are you?"

Zeke turned his head away from his PokeGear, sighing at his father's insistence. His dad must be borrowing his work vehicle, probably without permission, again...they certainly wouldn't spend the exorbitant prices of a car, not in a city like Azalea. Finally, defeated, he brought the 'gear back to his mouth.

"Kakuna Road, dad..."  
"Got it, I'm coming now, are you sure you're okay?" Zeke's father asked. Zeke, once more, had to turn the 'gear away to sigh. It was the third time his father had asked.

"Yes, I told you before. I'm just slightly shaken. I'll be fine, and later on we can get back my stuff, there's no rush." Zeke grumbled, doing his best to ignore his still-hammering heart, "I'll see you then, I guess. See ya dad." Zeke finished, instantly hitting the 'disconnect call' button on his PokeGear as he sat on the edge of the road, leaning his forehead down to rest on his knees.

'_I'm not going _there _again... Thanks though, father._' Zeke thought to himself, glad that the houses on the street all appeared to have shut curtains rather than people at windows wondering why the random boy was sitting in the street.

But he was there for a surprisingly short time. A car-Zeke never knew anything about car models-rounded a corner into the road at what Zeke's PokeGear confirmed to be 4:57pm. Pulling to a stop not far from Zeke, the teen stood up-recognizing the vehicle and driver-and got into the passenger seat, closing the door behind him. It was a slightly strange experience, getting into a car without his school bag with him. He looked down for several seconds, before finally forcing himself to raise his head to look at his silent father when the car wasn't started. His dad was waiting.

Looking at his father-Keith Connor-, Zeke always unconsciously noticed the features they shared-after all, they were remarked on by others so often. The same unruly black hair, though Zeke always let his grow more than his father's. They shared, also, the same surprisingly dark green eyes. Today, the eyes were filled with the concern that Zeke had been hearing through his PokeGear for some time.

"What?" Zeke finally asked, breaking the silence rudely. His father gave him a playful smirk.

"Just making sure you haven't been shocked speechless at the utter **tragedy** of losing your **school** items." The adult joked. Though probably in bad taste, and at a wrong time for anyone else, it brought a smile equal parts humoured and contemptuous to Zeke's face.

"Yeah, my heart bleeds at the pain of it all. Why, how would I be able to work hard without them?" Zeke returned sardonically, causing his father to chuckle before the car awoke in the sound of the engine restarting.

"Hah, good to know you still have that slice of my wit."  
"That slice? Dad, everyone knows you've been losing your 'famous' wit for years."  
"That so? Regardless, it was once famous; I have yet to see your's reach that."  
"Pfft. You're hopeless."  
"What, that's all you got?"  
"You're also old."  
"Oh. Ouch. That sure hurts(!) It's still better than being a teenager. Why, this is the first time in _years_ you've communicated through something other than grunts."  
"Hah! This is the first time in years you haven't been needing glasses. Oh, right, contact lens."

They continued the good natured quarrelling between each other, swapping light, harmless insults. It was a pastime shared between father and son. The short drive took no time at all, it seemed, and Zeke's mind was averted from his previous shock almost completely, as was his father's intention. Finally the car pulled up out the front of their home; 61 Oak Road, Azalea City .Both father and son almost simultaneously opening and closing their respective doors, Keith locking the car remotely as they walk up the path towards the small, primarily brick, house. Opening the door to greet them both was the woman of the household. Mrs Trish Connor was taller than both her husband and son, strangely, standing well over 6 feet in height, and wearing a dress designed for practicality over fashion. They weren't a poor family, per se, but then nor were they rich by any measure. At her side, panting happily, was a Houndour by the name of Richard.

Richard had been in the family for some 23 years, older than Zeke by far. Most Pokemon, especially those that don't battle often, tend to live for long times, though a majority wouldn't stand up to a human's lifespan. Saved as a puppy from an uncaring owner, he was loved-and treated-as well as anyone else in the household. Despite his age, he still seemed young and active, though thankfully long past the incident twenty years ago-before Zeke was born-where he started a small fire in the living room.

With a bark of '_Dour!_', Richard ran to the arrivals, going to nuzzle along Zeke's side comfortingly. Zeke petted his head, grimacing as he realized that the entire household must know what happened. So much for telling dad he was fine.

Frowning, Zeke was put back in mind of three years ago, when he was thirteen and was reduced to tears at the sight of Pokemon battles...

- _Before Zeke said a word, she asked the question they both knew the answer to._

"_...They're at it again, aren't they?"_

_A large burst of flame, visible through the window next to the front door, confirmed her suspicions, sadness brewing in her own face as she moved over to her son, who was now hiding his face into the warm coat of the Houndour, holding an arm around him sympathetically. They remained there for some time, without movement or noise, before Zeke spoke up, his voice shaking as he held back tears._

"_How can they __**do **__that? H-how can they do __**this**__? How c-c-can no-one see? How did the world end up like this, __**THIS**__? H-h-h-" Zeke made out, his voice raising in sound and emotion as sobs welled up at his own questions before he was cut out as his mother lifted his upper body from the Houndour, embracing him calmingly._-

Zeke was struck from his thoughts at the sound of his mother's voice directed at his father.

"Honey, I already explained it to Richard, and he wants to go with you when you pick up Zeke's stuff, in case the Scyther's still there. You were right, the police would want to capture it, so we can't call them." Zeke's mum mentioned, clearly continuing from a previous conversation, "You might as well go now, on the way to dropping the car back off at work. You two can catch the bus home, right?"

"Of course," Keith nodded in agreement, "We'll probably be back within the next hour. I'll call you on the PokeGear if something comes up. Zeke, is there anything we need to know about where your stuff should be, or would it all be in the bag you threw away at the entrance path?" His father asked him, not unkindly. Zeke nodded to his dad's final statement, as the Houndour left his side to follow his father back to the car, easily bounding into the passenger seat when Keith opened the door for him. Richard's bark of '_Houndour_' marked his thanks.

Zeke and his mother waved the other two goodbye before she spoke.

"Zeke, there isn't anything you want to talk about?" Trish asked, worried. Zeke just shook his head, silent, sidling past his mother to move inside his house.

As Zeke walked down the hallway to his room, he heard his mother call out after him.

"Just tell me if there's anything you want, okay?"

He pulled his bedroom door shut behind him, not responding, the closed door effectively blocking out his mother's words as she left him to his private domain. Finally in his bedroom, he sat on his bed, pulled his knees up to his chest, and cried.

It was the first chance he's had to get it out of his system, since he was almost **killed** by a Scyther. The thought still made him dizzy, still made him sob harder, yet still muffling every sound he made with his own knees. Thank Arceus he didn't tell his parents how bad it really was back there, he **really** didn't want to be given a talk by them right now.

...

Keith looked around at the sight in front of him. Branches of all thicknesses and heights had been sliced clean through, even the trunks of some trees having worrying deep scratches. In the middle of the entrance to the path, at the seeming end of the Scyther's rampage, was Zeke's schoolbag, cut almost completely through with what must have been a bladed arm. If it was actively cut, that means that it must have been cut out of the air, the Scyther wouldn't hack at things on the ground already...Zeke must have been hiding how close the Scyther must have been to him.

'_Arceus...at the sight of all the damage done by one Pokemon, I'm amazed Zeke took it so well..._' Keith thought, looking around. The now-useless bag torn, much of its contents had spilled around the place. Severely damaged textbooks, stationary, two novels that Zeke was reading, though they seemed to have held up better...

Richard was growling, pawing at one particular item, though. A pokeball, though covered in protest writing. Keith swallowed, a thought coming into his head...

_The Scyther tore its way through wood and foliage, bloodlust reaching frenzied levels. With reflexes beyond that of a human, it sliced through the obstruction thrown at it as it bounded ever closer to its target. Cleaving cloth and plastic with ease, it had no chance to continue the pursuit as from the bag it had ripped flew a single device, the Scyther unintentionally still running towards it. The Pokeball opened, converting the Pokemon to data and signals within seconds, falling to the ground, rocking madly as the Pokemon tried to escape from its newfound prison..._

Keith's mouth went dry as he picked up another nearby device that had been spilled, Zeke's School-Issue Pokedex. For Zeke to get his hands on a pokeball in the first place, he would have had to synchronize it with the PokeDex. Opening the PokeDex that was clearly had yet to be used for any length of time, Keith was greeted with a screen showing an image of a Scyther.

"**Caught Pokemon Detected. International Pokedex number #123; Scyther, the Mantis Pokemon. This Pokemon is a Threatened species, and mistreatment of this Pokemon is punishable under the 'Third Endangered Pokemon Protection Act'. Scyther are intelligent with most able to understand most Human Languages to some level, they are known for their agility and are able to move at such speeds as to create the illusion of there being more than one. Caution should be used with this Pokemon; its bladed forearms have been known to cut through logs with speed. More information about this Pokemon, its habits and its required food can be found at your closest Pokemon Center.**"

Keith sighed, closing the PokeDex.

'_Well that's complicated things._'

...

"But I haven't registered to a PC, how am I supposed to release it?" Zeke exclaimed, horrified, after he had heard the news. He knew that once a Pokemon was 'caught' or otherwise introduced into a Pokeball, the connection between capsule and Pokemon was permanent. Other people could not catch a Pokemon with such a connection, a Pokemon will usually be able to instinctively find the Pokeball they are 'linked' to just as the owner of a Pokeball can search for the owned Pokemon.

True, some trainers were known to simply send out a Pokemon and then destroy the Pokeball, thus theoretically severing the link, but it isn't a recommended method, and at times may damage the Pokemon depending on the circumstances.

"It won't take long to register you. Most people your age have already, with the paperwork and all it should only be a couple of days at the most." Zeke's mother comforted him. The offending pokeball sat on the kitchen bench, out of view, "And no harm will come to Scyther while it's there, nor is any real notable energy expended within, so it won't grow hungry...Just a couple of days, is that alright, son?"

Zeke sighed, openly now-not caring if his parents saw.

"Yeah, sure...Excuse me, I need to rest." Zeke stated forwardly, storming off to his room. His parents grimaced, watching him go.

"Poor Zeke." Trish sighed, "Good thing Friday. Tell him he doesn't have to go to school on Monday if he doesn't want, please, sweetheart?"

Keith nodded, moving down the hallway and knocking on the now-shut door to Zeke's room.

"Zeke? Your mother's can call in sick for you, if you don't want to go to school for a bit after the weekend. If you want to take a couple of days off, we understand."

Zeke's family had an understanding. Zeke was both willing and able, even without supervision, to learn and study his own textbooks. Regardless of what he did in class, his grades were excellent in a few topics, though those that related to battling, studies and philosophies in Pokemon he almost intentionally failed. Not that either of his parents could fault him for that; both had the fortune to go to schools specifically for those who largely stood against the culture of Pokemon use, pacifists and protestors. Unfortunately, none of those existed in Azalea, and Zeke had no interest to move, so he simply taught himself what he cared to learn, and did surprisingly well by doing so.

"Thanks, dad. Thank mum for me too, please. I'd like that." Zeke called out through the closed door, genuine appreciation in his voice-a rare thing from him. Keith smiled past the barrier of the door.

"Well, we've got a stir-fry for dinner in about an hour. Should we call you when it's ready? Do you want anything else?" Keith called again, glad when Zeke finally opened the door from the other side so he could look at his son-the same height as him at 5'8".

"Nah, I'll be back by then. I'm going for another walk to clear my head. It's just along to the Slowpoke Well and back. There won't be any surprises on that route." Zeke said, an edge of a smile on his face. His father frowned. It wasn't unusual for that; Zeke liked the Slowpoke Well for all of the wandering Pokemon there...as long as there weren't people trying to catch them. And besides...

"After what just happened, I'm surprised you're not tired of walks already. Well, take Richard with you, please, it will make your mother and I feel better." Keith put on the condition. Zeke looked like he was going to argue for a second, but instead shrugged.

"Alright, then. I'm a bit hungry now, so I'll take a couple of berries with me." Zeke grumbled, walking into the kitchen as his father shook his head, turning around to look for Richard. Zeke's mother wasn't anywhere to be seen, though her voice could be heard from her room talking on the phone to arrange for a PC registration.

It was because of all that that Zeke found the Kitchen empty and silent, save for the hum of a rice-cooker, clearly in preparation for dinner later. Looking behind him, checking that his father couldn't see, he swiped the pokeball marked with ink off the kitchen bench, his protest pokeball. Clicking an imperceptible panel on it, it instantly shrunk to the size of a golf ball, metallic materials fading into an electrical data form-much like how the Pokemon inside was-in order to allow such shrinkage. Hiding the pokeball in a pocket, he grabbed a small box from the fridge. Inside it was a mixture of Oran, Aspear, Pecha and Sitrus Berries, melted, blended then frozen. With a few added ingredients, the combination turned into a home-made ointment of sorts, a powerful healing mixture. It is also both safe and delicious to eat, but such would be a bad idea, considering the relatively small quantity and the great expense of the ingredients, considering how rare Sitrus berries are, and to a lesser extent Aspear berries too.

Good thing he didn't intend on eating it.

Thanks to the small size of the container-comparable to a Pokedex-Zeke easily slipped it into his other pocket before slipping his way quietly outside, closing the front door quietly behind him. Surprisingly, he managed to get to the end of the street before the inevitable happened.

"_Houndour!_"

A bark from behind him, the pattering of paws, and Richard had caught up to Zeke, who didn't break his stride as the Houndour slowed down, walking beside him and looking at the teenager with an expression that could only be described as disapproval, snorting his feelings with an exhalation of what was more smoke than breath.

"_Hound, hound-houn, dourrrr, houndour-dour._" The Pokemon scolded Zeke for running off without waiting for him, until finally Zeke sighed. No person could make him feel guilty but a Pokemon.

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry, Rich. Guess I was just impatient, huh?" Zeke apologized, lying about his reasons to leave, still not looking at the Pokemon. Zeke suddenly had to, though, when Richard skipped in front of him, standing in Zeke's path and glaring up at the teenager.

"_Hound!_", the dog-like Pokemon demanded. Zeke swallowed, suddenly remembering that Richard could always tell when he lied. Zeke had spent more time with him than anyone else, after all. Zeke bit his lip in hesitation...Richard may stop him, he had stopped Zeke from doing things before.

-_Zeke barely got a glimpse of the Pokemon, an image burned into his head of vicious claws, crazed eyes and streaks of red blood travelling down a green body, before his senses recovered, he span around, and ran as fast as his legs would carry him back down the path he came through..._-

"Look, I...I brought the Scyther along." Zeke stuttered, confessing to the Houndour there in the street, "When it attacked...I...I remember. I remember seeing red blood on the Scyther, but none on its claws, I think. It's a bit of a blur, but...I think it was hurt." Zeke admitted, hoping Richard would understand. It didn't look like it, with the look the older Houndour gave him.

"Yes, I know Pokemon don't feel pain inside their pokeballs, but I don't trust the Pokemon Center. They could legally take the Scyther away if they learnt it attacked a human, and I can't just release it later while it's wounded, can I? Besides, I don't think we should be keeping it inside a pokeball when we don't know if it wants...it must have calmed down, after all, it won't attack me. Even if it does, I can return it. Please understand, Rich...don't you want to help it too? It's probably hurt and scared..." Zeke practically begged. Only for a Pokemon would Zeke ever go through such trouble to help, only a Pokemon would Zeke forgive so easily and quickly. Only for a Pokemon would Zeke so hope to see the Houndour in front of him nod.

Grumbling, the Houndour snapped at the air with his jaws, clearly unhappy with the situation, before nodding hesitantly. Richard yelped his protest moments later, though, when Zeke suddenly leant down to squeeze him in a tight hug.

"Thank you! I knew you'd understand. I'm glad you're with me, honestly...now come on, Slowpoke Well should be empty of humans by now, and it's not a long walk. It'll be a perfect place." Zeke grinned, his normally sullen face transformed at the gesture, suddenly turning to run off down the street, with the Houndour following alongside the abruptly energetic boy.

...

Zeke looked around the clearing. Besides the steep, cliff-like decline to Slowpoke Well with stairs carved into its edges, the land around was more or less featureless, the grass slowly wafting in the afternoon breeze, tinted orange to reflect the colour of the sky above at this time of day. Most importantly, there was no-one around. Zeke frowned as he retrieved the pokeball from his pocket, and drew out a handkerchief as well, spitting on it and using it to try to wipe off the protest markings on the Pokeball. It seemed wrong, now, to protest against enslaving Pokemon in such devices when he just had essentially done so... As he cleaned off the ink with relative ease, he hit a panel so the pokeball returned to its normal size. Suddenly less sure of himself than he was before, Zeke turned to Richard for comfort.

"Okay, I think I'm ready...Um...I'll try to talk to him, or her, whichever it is." Zeke said nervously. The Houndour just looked at him in annoyance, something akin to 'get on with it, I'll be here if things go wrong' written on his face. Zeke nodded, more to himself than to Richard, swallowing as he tentatively pressed the Pokeball's centre button, forcing back a gasp at the sudden reaction, the Pokeball snapping open, pushing backwards against the teenager's arm as a burst of primarily red light appeared to move across the ground as if lightning, before slowly swirling to solidify into a shape, colour and texture rapidly being created from the energy until a Scyther-_the_ Scyther-appeared, standing with its blade-like arms in front of it, essentially covering its body defensively. It made no sound, but eyelids rose on its reptilian face, revealing its pitch-black eyes.

Looking at those eyes that stared at him so, Zeke felt a chill. He wasn't sure what the eyes conveyed...hurt? Accusational? ...Apologetic? Somehow, it didn't seem...angry. Or aggressive in any way.

Zeke tried to say something, before finding his throat too dry to say it. Swallowing, he tried again, hiding the tremble that wanted to enter his voice at the sight of the notoriously fast and deadly Pokemon in front of him.

"Hiya. I'm...sorry for what, um, happened. Um... I'm doing all I can to Release you as quickly as possible, for what it's worth." Zeke spoke as clearly as he could. The Scyther stared back, expressionless, before nodding almost sagely. Zeke sighed his relief that the Scyther clearly understood him, and even knew what a nod meant to humans. Now that Zeke could look closer, he could see that he was right, and the Pokemon was injured. From the frontal body limbs that weren't covered by Scyther's bladed arms, Zeke noticed what looked like a thin scratch beneath the Scyther's left eye, blood dribbling from it as if it were a fresh cut, leaving small red streak across its face. Besides that, the only visible wounds were gashes, bruises and cuts along the flesh and skin sections of the Scyther's arms, possibly defensive wounds from trying to protect itself against a clawed enemy.

Zeke felt a warm, furred body press against his leg. Zeke looked down, smiling his thanks to Richard, feeling calmer with Richard there.

"We don't want to harm you, and while we work to get you Released, I wanted to give you what freedom we can for now until we can sever the link between you and the Pokeball. So you don't have to remain in it, that is. Do...do you want that?" Zeke awkwardly went on. It was strange...Zeke had to look down to look into the Scyther's face; the Scyther barely reached 5 feet in height, if that. And yet, with the blood soaked reptilian cheek, the marks of violence and the massive sword-like arms...the smaller creature was a thousand times more intimidating than the taller human.

The Scyther looked at Zeke, cocking its head, appearing almost quizzical. It nodded, once more. Buoyed by the Scyther's agreement, Zeke went on.

"Sorry, again, for what happened...why did you attack me, thoug-" Zeke was cut off almost as soon as he started the question as the Scyther swung its forearms forward-well out of reach of Zeke though-in obvious anger, showing fangs as it finally 'spoke'.

'_**Scyther!**_', it shouted, either in anger or denial, causing Zeke to stumble back with a shriek and Houndour to move in front of the boy, lowering on its haunches and growling warningly. The Scyther suddenly quieted, quickly moving its arms to cover itself again as it hissed a quiet '_Scy_' and shook its head vigorously, before looking down in obvious shame.

Zeke tried to calm his beating heart, his mind put back to hours before, suddenly realizing the stupidity of it all, of him now talking and helping what he was before running for his life from. Feeling numb, he patted Richard's back appreciatively, standing next to the Houndour.

"Th-thanks, Rich, I'm fine, its fine." Zeke assured the Pokemon, turning back to look at the Scyther, troubled. He thought he saw something, some severe discolouration, underneath what the Scyther now hid behind arms...pushing that to the back of his mind, Zeke tried to placate the Pokemon, "Okay, okay. Sorry, you didn't mean to attack me?"

A nod from the Scyther.

"You didn't know what you were doing?"

A shaking of the arms, almost like a shrug, before the Scyther nodded again.

"But you were in a fight, recently? I can see your wounds..."

The Scyther was silent for a few moments, before hissing quietly and nodding, turning his head aside, no longer looking at Zeke.

"You didn't mean to attack me, one way or another, you were just...Confused?", a shrug, "...Blinded?", a shake of a head, "You couldn't think, you were just...in pain?"

The Scyther slowly turned its head back, looking at Zeke. '_Scy..._'. Its call was one of true sadness, or apology. It bowed its head, in some form of acceptance. Zeke fear was washed away at the sound of the call...it sounded so gentle, so sad. Zeke could only guess that the Scyther was attacked by someone, perhaps trying to catch it, and it was driven into a rage, somehow. His heart went out to the Pokemon, and he patted Richard's head comfortingly before walking past the Houndour, bravely towards the green Bug pokemon. The Scyther's head shot up, brow frowning in suspicion as Zeke pulled a box from his Pocket.

"It's okay, I'm not going to hurt you. This is just to heal your wounds, okay? May I?" Zeke offered, opening the box and showing the ointment to the creature. The Scyther turned away, clearly a 'no'. Zeke was persistent, though.

"I'm only trying to help. Come on, it will work quickly."

The Scyther didn't look like it was going to change its mind. Too prideful, Zeke decided, and tried a different method.

"Well, I understand that you may not want anyone touching your scratches, I'm sure they're painful..." Zeke almost suggested. The Scyther frowned, clearly recognizing the hidden implication in the human's words that it would be too painful for the Scyther. It hissed under its breath, reluctantly tilting its face so that Zeke could easily reach the scratch under the eye. Smiling, Zeke scooped a generous dose of the ointment on his fingers.

"Thank you." Zeke said politely, putting the bladed arms out of his mind and carefully brushing fur aside with his clean hand so that he could clearly access the cut skin. The Scyther's fur was surprisingly soft to the touch, despite it being such a thin layer, though much cooler in temperature than the dabs of deep red blood that got on Zeke's fingers. The cut visible, Zeke uses his other, ointment-covered fingers to very gently drip a bit of the medicine onto the cut, smoothing it out to cover the scratch. Impressively, the Scyther didn't even let out a hiss at the pain it must have felt. Letting go of the Scyther's head-Zeke couldn't do anything to clean up the bloodstained fur, yet- Zeke stood back, getting another helping of the mixture on the palm of his hand.

"Your arm now, please?" Zeke asked. The Scyther obediently-still covering, specifically, it's right side with its right arm-offered Zeke its left, the blade facing away from the human. Zeke spread the mixture over the arm and up to the shoulder, and again when the Scyther switched arms-still carefully keeping a side of its body out of view.

The Scyther made a noise to express its thanks as Zeke stepped back, getting a much larger scoop of the medicinal mixture on his hands, raising an eyebrow as he looked at the Scyther-various parts of the Pokemon covered in dabs of crushed berries. It was hard to still be afraid of what he had stood so close to and touched the fur and skin of, and Zeke felt himself relaxing, even smiling at treating the Pokemon.

"Okay, now please remove your arms. I'm going to need to see whatever scratch you're hiding, I don't care how bad it is. This is a strong mixture, I'll be able to clear it up in minutes, I promise." Zeke grinned. The Scyther, though, did not grin...but it did nod hesitantly, slowly taking its arms away from itself. The grin was wiped off Zeke's face as he suddenly felt like he had to vomit.

Reaching from the corner of the Scyther's abdomen, above the hip, down almost as far to the knee, the Scyther's fur and skin was marred beyond recognition. A huge cut had cleaved into the flesh, yet almost no bleeding was evident, possible having to do with the sickening, purple discolouration around the great wound. Poisoned, likely as not. It's remarkable the Scyther appeared to be in as good condition as it was. The cut was almost a foot long, in total...Zeke realized the positioning of it may have saved his own life earlier, though...the Scyther could not possibly move at its normal speed with an injury like that.

Forcing back nausea, Zeke bit his lip, kneeling down and forcing himself to, as gently as he possibly could, let drops of the mixture sink into and around the scratch. Even as slowly and carefully as Zeke worked, the Scyther let out a couple of groans of '_Scyyyyther_'as he carefully did his best to heal the damaged skin, each time he heard something Zeke made sure he apologized profusely to the Pokemon. Finally, the injury was covered in the curative concoction and the Scyther had quietened. Standing back up, Zeke continued to speak to the Scyther as he gently stripped away the hardened ointment from beneath the Pokemon's eye; berries were known for their incredibly fast healing effects on most Pokemon.

"There, all done. Thank you...and I'm sorry that you've suffered so, especially at the hands of my kind. I promise I won't let anything like that happen, not while you're in my care." Zeke comforted the Pokemon, hoping the proud creature didn't slash him for it. The Scyther didn't, but its eyes looked meaningly into the boy's as Zeke inspected where the cut was beneath the eye earlier. It must have been a worse cut than he had thought before, possibly evidence of more poisoning of some kind. The cut had healed in minutes, as Zeke knew it would, but slightly paler-than-usual skin was left behind; a scar where fur would not grow again. Grimacing, Zeke went on to strip off the remaining coverings step by step, several scars still left along the Scyther's arms and a large one where the major wound was. However, the healing had otherwise worked perfectly, and when Zeke stood back, the Scyther was inspecting the scars with wonder at the almost instant healing rather than disappointment at the scars.

"Sorry for the scarring, there's nothing that can-" Zeke began before being cut off again. '_Scy! Scy scy scyther-ther-scy!_' The Pokemon interrupted, though this time exclaiming-quite loudly-its thank you, quite clearly, from the shaking of its head at Zeke's apology, and its wings behind it fluttering in some form of cheer. Now that Zeke's attention wasn't distracted by injuries, though, Zeke noticed something, and remembered the visual difference between male and female Scyther. Zeke smiled at the Scyther's fervent thanks.

"You're welcome, I assure you. You don't feel any lingering pain?", a shake of the head, "Good. If you don't mind me asking, by the way, you're a male Pokemon, right?"

Scyther's wings fluttered again, in annoyance or otherwise were unclear to Zeke, but the Scyther nevertheless nodded, calming down.

"Do you..." Zeke stopped himself. He was going to ask if the Scyther had a name, before realizing the stupidity of such a question. All Pokemon's 'names' for each other consisted of imperceptible different pitches and tones of pronunciation within a Pokemon's highly limited vocabulary. Instead, Zeke rethought his question, "While we work to Release you, do you want me to call you by some name, or just 'Scyther'?"

The Pokemon cocked its head, looking at Zeke oddly, before shrugging. '_Scy_'. Zeke resisted the urge to roll his eyes. That was unhelpful.

"I think I'll give you a name, if you're okay with it." Zeke said, noticing happily that the Scyther nodded without appearing annoyed in any way. "While I think, though, perhaps you would like to meet a family member of mine? This Houndour is Richard." Zeke offered, letting the Houndour walk forwards-seemingly far more comfortable around the Scyther after watching Zeke heal it. The two Pokemon immediately began to converse in growls, barks, calls and hisses of '_Houndour_' and '_Scyther_', in some form or another.

They appeared to get along, as Zeke thought on what name to give the Pokemon. He gave Pokemon names just as he would a human, at least a baby, obviously. To do otherwise would surely just dehumanize the equally intelligent creatures, and one of Zeke's many annoyances towards most Pokemon 'owners' and 'trainers'.

As the talk between the Houndour and Scyther quietened minutes later, Zeke finally spoke up.

"Eamon. What do you think of that name?" Zeke asked the Scyther as it turned back to him. It nodded, before shrugging again. Zeke grinned, "Eamon it is, then. If you don't mind, I think you're going to have to meet my parents one way or another, then. They're nice people, I promise, and won't hurt you. Would you prefer to walk? A Scyther might attract the wrong sorts of attention around these parts."

The Scyther-or rather, 'Eamon'-nodded in understanding, and pointed to the Zeke's pocket, where its Pokeball lay. Zeke nodded in return, raising the pokeball with apprehension. He didn't like this feeling of...dominance over the Pokemon, as he held the pokeball. Not that the Scyther seemed to mind.

"Well, it was nice to meet you, Eamon. In case I didn't mention before, my name is Zeke, Zeke Connor. I promise, you'll be back in your natural habitat as soon as possible." hitting the Pokeball's centre, a beam of red light erupted from the button Zeke had triggered as soon as his finger left it, connecting to the Scyther as the Pokemon's body appeared to phase away, leaving only a trail of shuddering red electric-like energy shooting back into the pokeball.

Zeke looked at the pokeball...it was uncomfortable, knowing his newest friend, Eamon, was inside it, inside its own virtual world within, able to hear and smell the real world faintly, but ultimately within a conscious dream. Doing his best to put it from his mind, Zeke began the walk back home, calling Richard to follow alongside, and talking to Richard along the way.

...

Yes, as confirmed earlier in the chapter with a flashback to the first chapter...since it wasn't clear at the time, the very, very first part of this story where Zeke was crying was when he was thirteen, not sixteen like every other time. Actually, I made two flashbacks to earlier chapters in one, strangely.

Also, yes, quite a few names to remember, I know. So to help people, whenever new characters are introduced, I'll place a bit of their information at the end author's notes, though I won't really reveal anything (such as age) that hasn't already been revealed or implied. I may also, if people think I should, place information like this on my profile, and update character information as the story reveals it.

But as for already introduced characters, to place them here:

**(HUMANS)**

**Zeke Connor**: 16 years old. Often described as being 'self-rightous', Zeke is a vegan by diet and calls himself a 'pacifist' who likes to think he's crusading against the cruel treatment of Pokemon by society. Intelligent in his own right, but more rebellious than wise, Zeke remains an unlikable introvert to most, save Pokemon.

**Rivet Stevens: **17 years old, Grade-A student and more popular amongst the school than one might think, Rivet is practical, kind and knowledgeable, as well as being slow to anger and quick to forgive. He considers his Zangoose, Ken, to be his closest friend, and treats him as such, and suggestions that he doesn't care about Ken may be one of the few things that can anger Rivet. His relationship with his parents is close, despite their busy schedules, and his family are not lacking in wealth. Rivet guides Ken's desire to spar and fight for sport, and it is rumoured around the school that Rivet intends to fight in the Azalea City Gym.

**Keith Connor: **Unknown age, and father of Zeke. Zeke is far from an easy child to raise, but both of his parents have reached understandings with the child, and are proud of him. Known for good-natured teasing and arguments between his son and himself, Keith dislikes the concept of intentionally having Pokemon fight just as all of the Connor family does, but understands possible coexistence between Pokemon and Humans better than his son.

**Trish Connor: **Unknown age, and mother of Zeke. Hard-working and sensible, Trish shares the views of her husband, but is more active in trying to restrain Zeke's rather more extreme stances. A friend of Rivet Steven's parents.

**Aiden and Dean: **17 year old students at Azalea High. Both have a cruel sense of humour, sparing little care for wild Pokemon or other students, and the most active in picking on the younger Zeke. Both were recently injured by a flock of Pidgey.

**(POKEMON)**

**Ken (Zangoose): **Orphaned, but raised from an egg by Rivet, Ken is about 10 years old, and Male. Kept in a Luxury Ball, but closest friend to Rivet, Ken is a shameless show-off, has a good sense of humour and a keen fighter, though purely for sport. A gracious loser and winner both, a more good-natured Zangoose you'll never find.

**Eamon (Scyther): **Caught by accident by Zeke, Eamon is of an unknown age, and Male. Eamon doesn't appear altogether talkative. Eamon appears relatively cool-headed most of the time, but not much else is known about Eamon, besides severe scarring it suffered at the hands of a Poison Pokemon led by a trainer.

**Richard Connor (Houndour): **23 years old, and Male. Though 23 may sound old, Pokemon tend to live for some time, so this Houndour isn't much older by its own standards than an actual human 23 year-old. Mature, and perfectly willing to disagree with other members of the family, Richard is nevertheless always happy to stand by silently, watching over his family members protectively. Slightly more talkative than your average Pokemon, Richard has no interest in fighting for any reasons but to defend one of the family, and is known for comforting Zeke when the teenager feels depressed or scared.

Well, that's all. Like I said, I'll put up more in later chapters if necessary, and I may move these to my profile if I get reviews that suggest such.

All reviews will be appreciated massively. They encourage me to write, after all, and I try to respond to every review, critical or not.

Well, I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Let me know what you thought.


	4. Friends, Family and Pokemon

"Raised to an Art Form"  
Chapter 4: Friends, Family and Pokemon

Hey, what do you know, I'm back with a new update on this story!

Well, looking back over my previous chapters, there are things I like and things I don't like (I'm never really happy with a lot of the dialogue, in particular), and I might re-upload some of the earlier parts of this story just to change a bit of dialogue and descriptions, but I won't change any plot elements or introduce anything new, so you don't have to worry about rereading them.

Anyway, now you get another Rivet & Zeke mixed chapter. Also, do I smell the emergence of drama, a plot, a calling?

In unrelated news, heard of "Pokemon Black&White 2" yet? That's a new step for Game Freak, and Pokemon is a gaming series not known for surprising its fanbase.

Thank you to the user **"****Out of Pseudonyms"** for his review. I'm not getting many reviews for this story, I've noticed... Ah well.

...

Rivet's hand ached.

"Ugh, at least that's just about all of my maths homework done..." the teen said to himself, putting aside his calculator and pen and leaning back on his chair with a groan. He adjusted his PokeGear to sit more comfortably on his left wrist, checking the time displayed on it as he did. 7:40pm. That meant that both of his parents would probably be working rather late again, if neither are home by now. Rivet briefly considered his options of what to do now. It was a Friday, so he could afford to stay up late if he cared to, and for once he had no homework to speak of for the weekend, save for what he just completed. Still, the break from homework and study won't be for long, considering the mid-year exams coming up in two weeks for him. It _was_ May, after all, nearing the end of Spring.

A furred head butting against Rivet's side brought a halt to his musings. Turning his head, he saw Ken standing with a document in its mouth, dropping it on Rivet's lap. As a Zangoose, Ken was perfectly capable of carrying things with his hands, but the length of his claws and the limited dexterity of his small thumbs insured often meant that carrying thinner or smaller objects was usually easier in the grip of his jaws.

Rivet raised an eyebrow, recognizing the partly-completed document that he'd picked up a few weeks ago, it was an entry form to arrange a time to challenge the Azalea City Pokemon Gym. The Trainer ID, full name, signature and age was already filled in on the form, but it still required the signature of a guardian, a list of dates and times that the challenger will be available, payment information for the optional donation to the Gym and the various options of entrance and the team of Pokemon that will be fought with.

"What, you think you're ready to go then, huh Ken?", Rivet asked, his question already answered by the grin on his Pokemon's face. Ken gave a mock salute with a claw and a '_Zan!_' in response, causing the teen to chuckle.

"Well, let's see what you can do, first. It's been a while since we've trained, hasn't it?" Rivet stood up, stretching his back as he did while Ken yipped his agreement, taking off on all fours to head downstairs. Rivet put the entry form aside, pulling on some socks and shoes before meeting his impatient Pokemon at the door, the Zangoose repeatedly shrugging his shoulders and shaking himself side to side, limbering up in anticipation. As Rivet opened the door, Ken rushed through, calling out impatiently as Rivet took the time to lock the front door behind him before following his Pokemon down the street, heading off towards the outskirts of the forest a mere ten minute walk from the house. The growing dark of the late afternoon didn't bother Rivet, and it was a warm night, but he took the opportunity to text his parents as he walked, telling them that he's out to train with Ken in case he's not home before they are.

As they continued to walk, Ken running up ahead of Rivet before turning and running back again repeatedly, stretching his legs, Rivet's thoughts turned to the Azalea Gym, and possible competition. The basic structure of challenging a Gym was simple. Once a registered Trainer of 14 years or older completes the relevant entry form, the Gym arranges a suitable time and sends back the appointed time to the challenger. For a city like Azalea, the Gym usually has at least 10 challengers per day and can often make appointments mere hours in advance. The appointment specifies a time when the challenger may fight against one of the Gym's 'trainees' or 'apprentices', volunteers that the Gym Leader has agreed to teach and train in return for them weeding out the inept trainers so that the Gym Leader is not constantly battling against challengers. If that initial battle is won, a second one may be demanded or the Leader will agree to fight, usually setting a new appointment for within a few hours time or within the next few days.

While Gyms are restricted in their Pokemon, usually required to compose teams of predetermined 'types' of Pokemon, Leaders usually take more Pokemon into battle than the challenging Trainer in order to even up the odds. Combined with the expertise and constant training that most Leaders have and put their Pokemon through, successfully beating Leader is a relatively rare feat, and usually occurs once every couple of weeks at most. For Azalea, the last winning Trainer was a traveller from Goldenrod five weeks ago, and even if a Leader is beaten it is still only a single badge of a minimum of 7 Johto badges to enter the recently changed Johto 'league'.

Filmed or spectator Pokemon Battles have been steadily rising in popularity in Johto, and the increase in international challengers and champions have led to a significant change to the league six years ago. For decades anyone who successfully collected all 7 Johto Gym Badges would then fight against the famous Elite Four, and then challenge the existing Champion – if any – to win the title. However, with more international travellers and with quarantine regulations on Foreign Pokemon being relaxed, the number of people beating the Elite Four meant that a new Champion was being introduced every couple of months, leading to the instalment of the new tournament-like structure, where once a year anyone with all Johto badges may enter and fight off against each other in 4 quadrants, with the winner of each quadrant fighting a different, randomized member of the Elite Four. Finally, any winners against the Elite Four fight each other and/or the existing Champion for the title.

'_Of course,_' Rivet thought, '_It's gonna take a lot of luck just to get one badge. Leader Bugsy might not be prepared for a Zangoose, or their resistance to Poison attacks, but he's beaten plenty of Trainers better than me._'

Finally Rivet stepped off the streets, having come to the edge of the city, more or less, with nothing more left but a few tracks heading off into Ilex Forest. Rivet headed down one of the tracks, knowing the area it leads to, a part of the forest where the trees are spaced well apart, giving room to move and deterring large numbers of wild Pokemon, particularly for how often it is travelled by other people.

Finding the semi-clearing, Rivet stepped off the rough stone path, Ken at his side. As he did so, Rivet took a moment to grab a few loose rocks from the track and carried them as a small pile. There wasn't anybody else around this late, but he knew of cyclists who sometimes used this forest track as a bike route, and made a mental note to keep away from the path while training. Rivet stood a few meters in front of Ken, looking his Zangoose in the eyes.

"Okay Ken, let's start. Are you ready?" Rivet called as he used his weight to snap off two large, nearby branches and put them on the ground in front of him beside the rocks he'd already left in a heap. At Ken's nod, Rivet picked up a stone in each hand.

"Okay, let's start working on your defence. Swords Dance!"

At the teen's command, Ken bounced on the spot, almost appearing to hop backwards and forwards, swinging his claws through the air in the act of limbering up. However, within a few seconds, his swings were increasing in speed and intensity even as he remained moving, hopping from left to right to backwards to right again to left, beginning to create a ward of constant slashes in the air, a threat to anything that tries to close in while at the same time getting the adrenaline flowing through the Pokemon.

"Keep going, and do as I say with each of my projectiles! Deflect!"

At the cry of "deflect", Rivet hurled a fist-sized stone at Ken, who, without breaking his pattern of jumps and slashes, knocks the heavy rock away from his head with the back of his claws with ease. At Rivet's next command of "dodge", Ken ducked and leapt to the side to let the next thrown stone pass by, before straightening and increasing the speed of his defensive slashes and bounds. Rivet picked up and threw more stones, randomly crying out orders to deflect or dodge, Ken doing each easier and more elegantly than the last, until Rivet lobbed one of the branches he'd gotten at Ken.

"Slice!"

At the new command, Ken bounded forward to meet the thrown branch, cleaving it in two with a single powerful claw as he did, deflecting the two remaining pieces easily and returning to his deadly dance. Rivet returned to the stones, throwing with greater strength and speed and returning to his old command before, as he threw the last stone of the pile, he called his final order.

"Catch!"

Ken stopped his 'dance', and caught the stone heading for him in one hand easily, before walking up to Rivet and returning it with a grin.

"_Zangoose. Goosegoosegoose._" Ken proudly proclaimed, still hopping on either foot, having warmed up from the Swords Dance.

"Good work. Okay, now I'm going to throw this other branch high into the air, and at my command you will slice it into as many separate pieces as you can before letting them fall to the ground. You remember this exercise?"  
"_Zan!_"  
"Good, now stand back, and wait for my signal."

Rivet put the rock Ken handed him back on the ground, and picked up the disused Branch, using both hands to lob it in an arc towards Ken, now once again standing several meters away.

"Annndd...Quick Attack!"  
"_Zan-_", in an instant, Ken's claws from one hand had severed the branch into three pieces.  
"_Zan-!_", in another, as the branch was knocked back from the blow, an overhand swipe with the other hand cleaved two more pieces off.  
"_GOOSE!_", in reflexed beyond that of any human, Ken reversed the alignment of his claws, slashing them outwards towards what was left of the branch, cutting wood yet again and letting the small remaining pieces fall to his feet. A quick count shows that the one branch was now divided into 8 smaller pieces, scattered around him.

"Fantastic! Your Quick Attack hasn't slowed at all, I see. You still got four slashes onto the branch before it hit the ground, that's faster than what a lot of your opponents would be able to do. Now let's move this up in scale. I checked and couldn't see any Caterpie or Weedle in this tree I'm next to, nor any Pineco ready to drop, so we're good to go onto the next part. Stand beside this tree." Rivet cheered Ken before directing him to the rather short ten-foot tall tree in the paddock. The tree was thin, less than a foot wide, with a large number of branches jutting out all the way down to near the base of the trunk. Ken stood beside the tree, sharpening his claws upon one another, preparing to practice some more offensive attacks.

"Okay, good. Now we'll test your last two major attacks, not counting Taunt, of course...but I've never seen a Pokemon ignore your Taunt anyway, so I don't think it needs practicing even if there was some way to test it safely. Okay, on my mark, start cutting down the branches around the tree that you can reach, I want to see the bare trunk of it up to my shoulders. Ready? Set...Fury Cutter!"

With a yell of battle, Ken hacked off two branches in a swipe, and the twigs of a few others. As he did, his black dagger-like claws briefly gleamed with some almost imperceptible mix of colours, vague enough to think it was a trick of the light.

"Fury Cutter!"

Ken hacked again, this time with his other hand, the gleam of colour returning and holding for a second, looking like a mixture of colourlessness and a rainbow at the same time.

"Fury Cutter!"

With Ken's third slice, a portion of the tree was now bare, and he was widening the portion dramatically, particularly with his claws now covered in this new mix of every colour, and his claws were beginning to grow longer and sharper, beyond their normal length.

"Fury Cutter!"

Ken continued as did Rivet's commands, now hacking again and again and again, every slice lengthening his claws well beyond normal length as even his furred hands began to be covered by the liquid rainbow of colours. Finally, with a bit of sidestepping and slashing on Ken's behalf, the tree had been clipped as much as possible, and Ken's claws were brimming with indescribable energy from the hacks.

"Now! Poison Jab at the trunk!"  
"_Zangoose!_" with a final yell, Ken's claws suddenly changed colour abruptly to a deep, sickly purple, literally glowing in the twilight of the night and keeping their temporary lengthening the Fury Cutter caused. Ken leapt past the tree, glowing claw outstretched as he did, before coming to a stop past the trunk, glowing purple scratches through the wood. A second passed in silence, before with the groaning of wood, the tree snapped at the point of the cut, falling with a crash to the forest floor safely away from Rivet or Ken.

Ken panted as his claws returned to normal shape and colour, sweat now running down his face as he turned and gave another grin to Rivet, proud of itself, even as tired as it was. Rivet smiled in return, kneeling down to give his Pokemon a hug.

"You did great, Ken, great work. I think we're as ready as we're ever going to be training on trees and rocks to battle. You think you'll be up to fighting against the Gym this w-?" Rivet asked, cutting himself off as his exhausted Zangoose nodded enthusiastically through its panting, "Alright then. Time for you to rest for the night, I think." Rivet finished, pressing a part on the golf-ball sized Luxury Ball he took from a pocket and letting it expand to full size. At Ken's nod, Rivet clicked another section of it to let a beam of red light connect it to Ken, the red light briefly covering Ken's body before he dissipated into a bolt of energy back into the Luxury Ball.

Rivet smiled, looking affectionately at the Luxury Ball where he knew his friend now rested. Shrinking it, he placed it back in his pocket, thinking over the training they'd just made as he headed back home, leaving the cut tree in the process, reasoning it can serve as a home to different Pokemon now.

Ken was good, Rivet reasoned, really good. A lot of trainers just had Pokemon from around local areas, such as Slowpoke, Pineco, Pidgey, Hoothoot or some form of basic Bug Pokemon, and none are particularly 'fighting' Pokemon for the most part. A trained Pidgey can cause a lot of damage, but Bugsy must have taught his Pokemon to handle plenty of attacks from the air. Pineco can be dangerous in a battle with their Selfdestructing, but they're little threat to a Gym Leader who tends to bring in more Pokemon than the challenger. Slowbro are highly capable Psychics, but the Shellder seemed to have moved into deeper parts of the well away from where humans can easily reach, since evolved Slowpoke are rarely found or seen.

A Zangoose, however, was resilient – if not immune – to any poisons Bugsy's Pokemon might use, if Bugsy has anything as predictable as a Beedrill for example. Besides, Zangoose are built to fight, and are built to make attacks fast enough to protect themselves from the deadly-fast Seviper, so it's reasonable to assume that such speed would tend to be beyond what most Bug-type Pokemon from the area would be able to handle. And, of course, Ken has been sparring for fun against other Pokemon, owned or wild, since not long after he hatched under Rivet's care, and his diet of human meats seems to have kept his strength up and body healthy, despite the somewhat additional weight Ken's put on thanks to his appetite.

Rivet was now on the streets again, heading to his place. Struck by a moment of déjà vu, his thoughts centred on his Pokemon as they were, he thought back to when he was walking along this very footpath, years ago, and found a disc in the bushes. A Technical Machine, to be precise. From its significant value, having psychology and physically-modifying data able to be transmitted into certain recipients, his parents handed it in to the local police, but when no-one came to claim it it was given back to the Stevens' family, and Rivet and Ken pestered his parents until they let him use a Pokemon Center PC to embed the TM's data into Ken, teaching him to use the weapons of Zangoose's ancient enemy in Seviper – Poison. Specifically, Poison Jab.

Rivet finally climbed the few steps to his front door, recognizing the car in the driveway and the lights on inside. Knocking on the door instead of opening it with his keys, Rivet glanced at the time, picking up that it was now 8:25pm, before the door soon swung inwards to his mother.

Both of Rivet's parents shared his eye colour and hair colour – Brown. Of course, the blond highlights through Rivet's hair that he's insisted upon for years means that he inevitably stands out in most family photographs, in colour if not height. His mother shared his nose but stood much taller than, him, about 6'2", three inches taller than Rivet himself, and four inches taller than his shorter father. His mother was still wearing some relatively subtle lipstick and other makeup from her day as an executive to a respected advertisement agency, with formal clothing to match, though Rivet didn't pay enough attention or have the knowledge to describe them at all. His mother was a powerful woman, who had a philosophy of letting her son do as he wished, so long as he remained polite, didn't get into trouble, and continued to do well at school. With Rivet's natural sense of caution, friendliness and a willingness to work, she had the perfect son to let the philosophy work, just as Rivet was happy with the freedom he was offered in return.

"Come in, son, did your training go well?" Rivet's mother – Jennifer – smiled, leaning down slightly to receive the kiss on the cheek she expected from her son, both understanding that she didn't return the kiss because of her lipstick.  
"Yeah, mum, Ken's tired out but he did great. How was your day, and how's dad?"  
"He's good, he picked me up on his way home, and it was a slow day at work for me. So how's school?"

Rivet briefly summed up his day as he went inside, tactfully choosing not to mention the event with Zeke, saying hello to his father as he entered the living room where his father was doing a crossword at his armchair before suddenly changing the subject.

"So can Ken and I go for the Gym battle? He's ready and eager to go, and this will be my last chance to have some weekend days free for a couple of weeks, since I'll be busy studying for the subjects where I have mid-year exams." Rivet asked, explaining his reasoning early. His father put down the newspaper he was doing the crossword on, taking off his reading glasses to look at his standing son.

Rivet's parents were a match made in heaven; where his mother, Jennifer, is hardworking with a strong personality who is capable of management and handing out orders, his father, Jackson, is hardworking with a strong personality who is capable of getting things done when he's told what to do, despite general absent-mindedness when he's lacking a direction of work. Both could easily be described as eccentrics as well as intellectuals, but remarkably Rivet turned out quite normal and socially active, if a bit over-analytical at times.

"Well, that's great that you feel ready. It'll be a good experience for you and Ken, I suspect, right Jennifer?", Jackson said, continuing at his wife's nod, "This late at night, though, it'll be best to send in the entry form electronically, so do you mind turning on the PC for me, son? I'll be with you in a moment."

Rivet smiled, thanking his parents before dashing off to start up the expensive PC at the house. It didn't, of course, have the complicated mixture of hardware and software of Pokemon Center PCs that allowed for connections to Pokeballs for the storing, trading and releasing of the Pokemon of a Registered Trainer, but it did have connections to the so-called "World Network" that, though having been created decades ago, had only been actively available and used by the public in the last few years, and was already helpful in shopping and communicating through video-calls, and the transfer of funds. Of course, in a city as relatively rural such as Azalea, the technology has yet to take off fully, since most of the features and more were available for free at any Pokemon Center.

As the computer loaded, Rivet's father came to stand next to him, clapping a hand on his shoulder.

"So, you sure Ken's okay with this?"  
"Yeah, he was pretty serious about this. I think we might actually have a chance, at least as a one-Pokemon team. By the League rules, the Gym Leader can't bring more than 3 Pokemon if the challenger is a one-Pokemon Team."  
"Well I'm proud of you both, and I'm sure you'll do well. Just...don't get overconfident, okay? You don't have to win this, it's not that important. Even if you don't reach the Gym Leader, the important thing is you tried, just don't let Ken injure himself too badly." Jackson reminded Rivet, listening to his son's agreement as he brought up an online form to complete to send into the Azalea Gym.

After entering in the names of his son and himself, he clicked on a part of the form labelled "Scan Guardian ID", where he brought out his Pokedex from his back pocket and held it up to a small pad on the side of the PC screen until there was a 'beep' of confirmation. As Rivet knowingly got out his own Pokedex, his father clicked next on "Scan Challenger ID and Choose Team", where he took Rivet's Pokedex and did the same. After the confirmation 'beep', the screen suddenly changed to reflect all of Rivet's registered Pokemon as well as the dates of capture/registration and the serial number and type of Pokeball the Pokemon is currently linked to. Sure enough, a stock image of a Zangoose was there as well as the serial number of Ken's Luxury Ball.

After a few more clicks, Jackson had entered Ken into the form as the only Pokemon on the Challenger's team, and even went the extra effort of putting in a small donation of 2000 yen to the Gym through the form. While Gym's were funded by the government as well as the profits of the Pokemon League itself, the constant damage from battling led to inconsistent and often vast expenses, as well as the training facilities that all Gyms have. As such, even though Gym Leader's are barely paid aside from their huge tax reductions, and their Trainees aren't paid at all aside from education, meals and bedding, the endless costs associated with a Gym means that donations are asked of all contenders. Though completely optional, it is generally considered to be an active insult not to pay anything at all, particularly if your battles cause some kind of damage to the Gym, though the law has long held that any may participate regardless of capability to pay.

"Thanks dad!" Rivet said as his father sent in the completed form, knowing that he'll probably get a reply on his PokeGear the next morning, considering his Gear's number was on his ID information as 'contact'. Jackson shut down the PC, replying to his son as they both ignored the sound of ringing from across the house – like in most Azalean houses, the only phones used aside from PCs was from PokeGears, so it was likely just a call for Rivet's mum.

"No problem. Your mother is going to be taking the car to visit some colleagues across the city tomorrow, but I'll come along if they schedule your fight at any time. I look forward to seeing first-hand how well you two will work as a team." Jackson replied with a grin. Rivet, not embarrassed in the slightest of having a parent as a spectator, thanked his father for all his support, before they were interrupted by the call of his mother from another room.

"Rivet! Someone on the phone for you! Zeke Connor, from your school! I'm transferring the call to your 'Gear!"

...

**Earlier that day: 6:46pm**

Zeke ate his dinner quietly, giving short responses to each of his parents attempts to draw him into their conversation, claiming he was just thinking. It was the truth, Rivet was thinking over how to explain the Scyther...Eamon...How to explain **Eamon **to them, since it seemed...wrong to just leave Eamon alone now, and just leave him in a Pokeball until they just release him back into Ilex Forest. No, Zeke couldn't keep silent about it and let it end so simply, not when so many questions had been raised that Zeke was curious to get to the bottom to. Where did the Scyther come from? Who had wounded it so badly? Could Zeke release it back to where its family or swarm was? Was the Scyther healthy enough to survive, or will its scars weaken it permanently?

Oh, and also Richard was butting his leg underneath the table for the entirety of dinner, so Zeke didn't really have the option of staying quiet anyway. The butting left a very clear signal. '_Tell your parents about Eamon soon or I'll find a way to let them know regardless_'.

Damn Houndour.

Zeke finished his vegan stir-fry, more comforted by the feeling of being warm and fed than by its actual taste, but didn't look up from his largely empty bowl as he quietly stated carefully-chosen words to those at the table.

"The Scyther was injured by a trainer's Pokemon. It was sent into a rage."

The response at the table was not at all what Zeke expected. Where he expected confusion and suspicion he only saw resigned sympathy for what happened, but no surprise. His dad was the next one to speak.

"So that was the reason why you took the Pokeball, to speak with the creature?" Keith asked softly, his face difficult to read. Zeke's mother, however, had a small smile on her face, even as her brow creased slightly in sympathy. Zeke looked up to read such expressions, before looking down at the bowl in front of him again, hiding the slightest element of a blush as he realized he hadn't even considered that his parents may have actually noticed that Scyther's Pokeball was missing. The lack of foresight, or unintentional underestimation, was demeaning. Zeke mumbled a small "Yeah" back, at which point his mother's smile grew.

"You're a good boy, Zeke...I'm proud of your initiative, we both are." Trish encouraged, causing Zeke to briefly glance up with a surprised smile before ducking his head, too shy to keep his head raised, "So what do you think we should do? Should we take the Scyther to a Pokemon Center?" Trish asked her son, her meaning clear. This Pokemon was Zeke's responsibility, and she wanted to make sure her son was able to deal with such a responsibility for the first time. He'd never owned a Pokemon, of course, particularly since Richard doesn't count.

"I don't think so. I used some of the berry mix and healed him, though he's carrying scars. I promised I'd look after him while he was in my care, which I can do, but...I want to bring him back to his home, wherever it is; hopefully where other Trainer's can't get to him and attack him again..." Zeke admitted, finally keeping his head looking at his parents instead of his bowl.

"I don't know about this particular Scyther, but I haven't heard of any of his species living wild this far south. Normally they're found just past Goldenrod, and even then they're rare enough." Keith pointed out, his eyes on his son. Zeke thought over this information for a time, before clearly coming to a decision.

"Well...then could I take care of him until the mid-year break? Then I could...I could take him to where the other Scyther are, past Goldenrod, right? "

Zeke's parents shared a look across the table, before his mother answered speaking sincerely.

"We can take care of him if you want, but the trip to Goldenrod and back will take about a week on foot, and neither of us could take you. Honestly, we don't want you going alone."  
"But I could take Richard with me so I won't be alone, and you always said yourself I should see more of the country if I have the time and money. Well, I could always just camp out through the nights, which I'd have to walking through Ilex anyway, and buy food with my holiday allowance if I need. It's not a dangerous road, plenty of people my age do it..." Zeke reasoned, leaving out the fact that the 'people his age' taking such a road are usually young trainers looking to be the next young Champion, and happy to beat every Pokemon they come across to a pulp to 'train' for such a dubious honour.

"And what if the Scyther doesn't want to go home?"

That was Zeke's father talking, and it caused a moment of surprise for Zeke. He hadn't even considered such.

"Why...why wouldn't he?"  
"Well, he was attacked by a Trainer, and one way or another was found far from his supposed home we're assuming. Maybe he doesn't want to risk being attacked like that again, or maybe he doesn't have a home that he's cared for, as such. Some Pokemon do just want a safe home and a family, Zeke, like Richard, and like many humans."

Zeke was quiet, thinking over the concept in his mind.

'_It's true...Maybe the Scyther doesn't have a home, or enough of one to want to go back to. It was so...passive when I spoke to it, for the most part. But..._'

"...That doesn't mean I shouldn't try to find a place where he can be happy. I shouldn't have the right to choose for him, to tell him where he should remain and how he should be happy. He didn't ask to be captured, and I didn't intend to capture him. I want to make sure he has the option to do what he wants." Zeke explained, a certain tone of finality in his voice. His parents were quiet for a second, before they nodded, first his mother, then his father.

"Okay then, son. Do well in your mid-year Maths exam, and you can take Eamon where you wish to take him. We'll help you prepare, too, okay? You're not in this alone." Keith said, smiling his pride. Zeke, technically, had two exams coming up, since the compulsory class of Advanced Battle Theory had a mid-year exam alongside Maths subjects, unlike any other class that Zeke took. Of course, though, Zeke refused to even attempt the class, "Also, once we register you as a Trainer so you can travel with Scyther and release him, we'll also transfer Richard to your profile so you can legally travel with him, too."

"Thanks dad...thanks mum. Could I let the Scyther out, then? Richard already knows him, and I'm certain he'll be, well, friendly." Zeke said, his confidence leaving him as his speech returned to little more than mumbles. It occurred to him how fortunate he was that his parents seemed to so easily accept that the Scyther wasn't – or didn't appear – violent by nature, and that they seem to have forgiven it quickly for almost killing their son.

That, or they trusted that its capture has rendered it docile, as all Pokemon tend to be for the most part, once they have the virtual world to cool their anger in, and a realization that the holder of a Pokeball has control over where its live will lead. The thought that Pokemon are forced into servitude like that awoke a fury in Zeke, but he intended to make as little use of Eamon's Pokeball as he could.

"Alright...be careful, though. I look forward to meeting him, if you've already spoken with him." Keith accepted, motioning for Zeke to stay seated as he got up, collecting the empty dinner bowls and bringing them to the kitchen sink, beside of which was the Pokeball, laying on the bench beside. Picking it up, he walked back over to the dining table, handing it to Zeke with a nod. Zeke immediately pointed the ball in a relatively empty corner of the room, where Richard would normally lay if he was not sitting beside Zeke's chair at the moment.

"Come on out, Eamon." Zeke whispered, quieter than his parents could make out across the table. With a brief flare of red energy sparking across the room, the Scyther materialised with a careful stretch of bladed arms. Even stretched vertically, the Scyther easily fit underneath the roof, considering it was much shorter than an adult human anyway.

"_Scyyy-therrr..._" Eamon breathed, a pleased, if slightly tense, note, before opening his reptilian eyes at once, blinking a couple of times as they adjusted to the slightly dim lighting of the indoor house. His insect-like wings fluttered in slight discomfort at the sight of three humans and a Houndour looking at him.

"It's okay, Eamon, these are my parents. We all want to help you. Mum? Dad? This is Eamon." Zeke introduced the two, Richard walking over to sit by Eamon's side as Zeke spoke. Eamon looked down at the fire Pokemon sitting beside him, who looked up in return. Eamon tilted his head to the side, as if sizing up Richard again, before making a small nod and a friendly "_Scyyther_" of welcome, before turning its head back to Zeke and his parents.

Zeke's mother stood up, Eamon's gaze switching solely to her as she did. Instead of freezing at the fighting Pokemon looking at her, she instead, curiously, gave a deep bow.

"It is an honour to meet you, Eamon. It is rare to lay eyes on one of your proud kind." Trish stated softly but confidently. In response, Eamon's wings fluttered slightly once again, before bending over and bowing in return, mimicking the action almost precisely. As he straightened, something was slightly different in his face, a slight twitch of muscle around his eyes that gave his face a more relaxed quality which Zeke guessed to be a small smile, or the Scyther equivalent of one. At the success of the gesture, Keith slowly did the same, followed by Zeke, feeling clumsy and out-of-place as he did. It hadn't occurred to him to be so...formal with the Scyther. The Pokemon had attacked him earlier today, and then he had later treated its wounds with his own hands. The formality was...odd, after such experiences.

Eamon bowed once again in return, standing still as Trish walked closer to the Scyther, standing quietly as the taller woman stopped a foot away from him.

"May I?" Zeke's mother asked, simply as permission to enter the Scyther's more personal space. At its nod, she stepped slightly closer, placing a gentle hand on its shoulder and looking at his back, her husband and son looking in with wonder at how gentle, even knowing, her treatment of him was, "You are a trusting Scyther, and I've met some of your species..." Trish continued, before frowning at something she saw, stepping back to give Eamon some room.

"You're young, aren't you? Recently matured?" She questioned. Eamon's wings flexed and he shifted on the spot, seeming mildly annoyed as he nodded. Trish stepped back again, glancing over her shoulder at her son, "From the Scyther I've seen, I put Eamon at somewhere between four and five years of age. Scyther grow slowly by most Pokemon standards due to their complex shape and size, particularly compared to the eggs from when they hatch. Where most Pokemon mature within a year, unless they have an infancy stage of evolution which can last longer, Scyther take about three to five years to grow to maximum height and blade length, and even then their body still has room to grow, in a manner of speaking. Specifically, the muscles which move their wings do not develop much as they age, so they can help with gliding and jumping but are not actually able to sustain flight, unless a Scyther grows the muscles through repeated exercise and effort. In fact, many Scyther can hardly sustain gliding for any length of time, unless they spend the time to develop such muscles manually. The wings on Eamon aren't very strong." Trish explained to her son.

"I didn't know you knew so much about Scyther, mum..." Zeke said, slightly confused.  
"When I was much younger, a child, I spent some time working part time at a Pokemon daycare. There was a trainer who had dropped off two Scyther he had caught during one of the Bug-Catching festivals. He was so proud of his...achievement. He didn't return for many years, but they had an egg which the daycare looked after for almost the entire time I worked there, so I learnt a lot there, and a bit more through research." Trish explained with a smile, going back to her seat so her height didn't bother Eamon, even as Zeke approached the Scyther.

"I didn't know you were so young...sorry, for what it's worth, again, for what's happened to you...Eamon." Zeke said quietly. Eamon lowered his head, not making a sound, ears and wings twitching briefly when Zeke awkwardly laid a hand on his shoulder. Zeke had to resist the urge to instinctively stroke Eamon's fur. He pet Richard all the time, but he suspected the short-furred ex-wild Scyther wouldn't be so appreciative of a human's prolonged touch, "Do you, um, want to eat, or anything? We can get food, or a bed for you, if you'd prefer." Eamon shook his head, standing otherwise still. Zeke awkwardly decided to move to a different topic.

"We, um...I was going to see if I could...I mean...what do you want to do? Do you want to stay here? Do you want to go back to the forests as soon as you can? Or I can take you back to where other Scyther live, to where your species are, if you want, but you'll have to wait a bit if that's what you want." Zeke asked. Eamon was quiet, looking at the floor for a second, before looking at Zeke, then Richard, then Zeke's parents, sizing up the household again. Finally his eyes rolled to centre on Zeke, ready to give his answer.

"_Scyther-ther._" A shrug.

Not for the first time, Zeke had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. That was unhelpful.

"Okay then...I guess I'll take care of you as best I can, then. The forests around the city won't be safe, not if a trainer sees you and mistakes you for wild. Which means you'll be around here for a few weeks, then I'll take you to where other Scyther might be, and I'll release you there if you want, okay?" Zeke compromised, using his original plan as the final solution since Eamon didn't seem to have any strong feelings to input, "You can stay in your pokeball or around the house, as long as you're careful not to damage anything. You'll have Richard, and often me or my parents as company. Is that okay with you?"

"_Scyther!_" Eamon said, with that same movement of facial muscle. A smile. Finally some response to Zeke, though Zeke wasn't expecting such a positive result at the news that the Scyther will more or less be confined in where it can go for a few weeks. '_I suppose it knows it has food and, well, friendly faces around. If it didn't come from a swarm or family of Scyther, I guess it wouldn't have had that many connections with other Pokemon. I hope he continues to get along with Richard..._' Zeke thought, though the sight of Richard still sitting loyally next to Scyther was an encouraging one.

"Well you're welcome to make yourself at home, just try to be mindful of your blades on the furniture, please? I'll make sure I get food that is accustomed to your species, and arrange some bedding for you to take if you ever want to sleep outside of your Pokeball like Richard does." Trish said cheerfully, "But for now or as long as you want, welcome to the Connor family, Eamon."  
"Welcome to the family." Keith asserted with a smile, completely trusting of the new Pokemon.  
"I promise I will take you to your natural home, Eamon...but welcome to our family." Zeke said sincerely.  
"_Hound! Hound!_" Barked Richard, finishing the welcome.

Eamon looked between the Connors, before bowing again to the family, that same facial expression remaining.

"_Scyther. Scy-scy-scyther scy._" He said. Zeke felt a level of trust, and of thanks, in those words, "_Scy._" Eamon finished, pointing a blade-arm at the Pokeball sitting on the table with meaning.

"You want to go in for now? Are you tired?" Zeke asked, trying to make sense of Eamon's movements. At the Scyther's nod, Zeke picked up the ball. It still felt...wrong, in his hands. Somehow, he suspected it always will. Even so, he smiled at Eamon, not wanting to let his discomfort spread to the Scyther that was now his charge.

"Thank you, Eamon. We'll do all we can for you. Leave the Pokeball whenever you want; you're welcome in this house. Return."

A spark of red energy passed, and Eamon dematerialized, disintegrated into living data and protected inside the new shell the Pokeball makes. Richard made a brief whine, already missing his new friend, before barking a "_Houndour!__Hound!_" of happiness, butting up against Zeke's leg until Zeke pet him, Richard knowing that it will help accelerate Zeke's mind into ease.

"Thanks, Rich... Look after Eamon for me whenever I'm at school, alright?" Zeke asked, kneeling down to hug the Houndour, not caring that his parents were watching. Standing up, he turned towards his parents, who were both smiling at him.

"You did well, Zeke." His mother complimented him, "We'll get food for Scyther...for Eamon, by tomorrow, but we'll leave it to you to make sure he has whatever he wants, alright? Spend what time you can with him; make sure he's comfortable both with where he is and with you, especially if you're going to take him travelling during the mid-year break."

Suddenly embarrassed, Zeke mumbled a "yes mum, thanks mum" before hurrying out of the room awkwardly, not really sure what else to say or what else had to be said, taking the Pokeball with him, and holding it close to him, protectively.

All in all, that went well.

...

Zeke had put Eamon's pokeball on his study desk next to him, and was doing some Mathematics homework when his mum knocked on his bedroom door and entered with his consent, about an hour after they had welcomed Eamon.

"Zeke? I wanted to let you know that both your father and I really are happy to help out with taking care of Eamon any way we can. But also, I'd like you to talk to your school friend, Rivet."

Zeke swung around on his desk chair, surprised at the sudden request. After all that had happened to him today, having been almost killed, then learning he had caught the Pokemon that almost killed him, then treating that Pokemon, then talking with it and his parents to decide what to do with that Pokemon, his small argument with Rivet sounded like it was weeks ago, rather than earlier in the day.

And now he thought back on it, it was a stupid fight. He was stupid, and treated Rivet stupidly. Even so, though...

"Rivet isn't my friend, I've hardly exchanged a few words with him before today." Zeke grumbled, already not liking the request or any possible reasoning behind it.  
"Be that as it may, and whichever of you started that fight, you should talk about it and clear it up. Honestly, Zeke, I find it hard to believe the argument was justified, whatever it was about...Especially if it's about philosophies on owning Pokemon. I've met his parents."

'_Ah, of course._' Zeke realized, '_Mum wouldn't want there to be bad blood between her son and the child of some friends of hers._' Zeke thought, his mind briefly put off Eamon for the moment, returning to his more or less default mood of 'annoyed'.

Still...Zeke himself now actually owned a Pokemon...and was actually kind of happy to be taking care of it, and it seemed kind of happy to be taken care of...

'_That's different!_' Zeke reassured himself, '_I'm going to give Eamon the chance to be free, which you can't to a Zangoose so far from Hoenn, from its home. Also, I'm not having Eamon fight other Pokemon, for his sake and other Pokemon's sake!_'

Comfortable in his stance once again, Zeke chose to brush off his mother's words. It's not like she'll follow up on it.

"Sure thing, mum. I won't take some days off school, and I'll go talk to him on Monday." Zeke said, not 'lying' but...making a empty statement that he didn't really intend to follow through, that's all. '_It would be plain weird to just go up to Rivet, within his little circle of friends, and just go "Hi, yeah, my mum said we had to talk about our argument, so...yeah". I'm afraid, mum, that's sure as hell not going to happen._'

"No, if you go to school after the weekend, you won't really talk with him. Call him on his PokeGear. Tonight." Came the stern reprimand, keen to sabotage him.

Zeke kicked himself inwardly. His father might have fallen for that, but when his mother gets an idea in her head...Still, he had a get-out-of-jail-free card to play.

"I don't know his number." Zeke said, having to hide his glee in his voice, an inner joy that once again was doomed to be lost.  
"I do." Trish pointed out, handing a scrap of paper with a number scrawled on it to her son, "I have the number for his mother. Call her; say that you're Zeke Connor from Rivet's school, and that you'd like to speak with her son. Then it's up to you once you're talking with him. Start by saying you're sorry, if you can't think of anything else."  
"Okay..." Zeke said, defeated, "I'll just finish my maths homework-"  
"Nice try, but you have the weekend still and told me already that you didn't have much homework to do. Make the call now, homework later."

'_Damn it._'

Zeke looked down at the number, then up at his mum, watching his movements strictly, then at the number again. Slowly he adjusted the PokeGear on his wrist to a more comfortable position, then scrolled through its features until he got to the phone section, sighing as he began to type in the number, having no other choice.

'Click'.

"Hello?"

...

Surprisingly, I kept referring to the Scyther – Eamon – as an 'it' instinctively through the dialogue around Zeke's family, and kept having to go back and change the 'it's to 'he' and 'his'. I feel slightly bad for doing so, actually, considering I'm trying to uplift most Pokemon to levels of wisdom, personality and even humour to make them individuals, 'people', much like certain Pokemon in the anime and movies (some of them, anyway).

It was mostly instinct, really. I could be completely mistaken (it was a long time ago), but I THINK most Pokemon were referred to as 'it' a lot of the time in the anime...right? Did it change from the original to the English dub, perhaps? I don't recall.

One way or another, I'd like to keep referring to most Pokemon as 'he' or 'her' unless they have an unknown gender or none at all, or when certain characters/humans/trainers are talking to them or about them.

But anyway, onto more practical information...

Longest chapter I've made on this story, to my knowledge. I couldn't find a point where I could cut it off so it could still end well and be of the right length, so that's why I left it like this. And more happened this chapter than the last one. The last chapter was all about catching and talking to the Scyther, Eamon...This chapter was about integrating Eamon, planning what will be done with him and also about updating on what Rivet is doing, and readying for his Gym battle.

But you'll have to wait for the next chapter to hear how this second meeting of Zeke and Rivet go...and also how Rivet's Gym battles go.

This story is about to get a bit more interesting...if nothing else, there's actual fighting soon.

Also, some things are distinctly different to the Pokemon games, I should point out, though I imagine they're quite obvious. For one thing, Pokemon can be legitimately dangerous, especially to each other. For another, there's no limit of 'moves' for a Pokemon to learn, theoretically. Finally, many Pokemon are just plain better suited to fighting, particularly since battles aren't just a matter of 'choose a move and rely on your stats', but movement, commands, countering, dodging, etc...

Anyway, thanks for reading. I hope you're all enjoying the story, and thank you to all who review, will review or have reviewed!


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